


April Fools

by WackyGoofball



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, April Fools' Day, But kind of, Dirty Jokes, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I shouldn't be typing up tags at 2 a.m., JB banter, Long Shot, Romance, Romantic Comedy, So many tags, Technically they don't even spend much time at the office, and fall in love there, as always, as always I give you the dirty talk but leave the rest to the imagination, because that is nothing I am sure about, but they work at the office, coz it's the best kind of banter, did that once - won't ever again, even if it's way too late for that, if you can consider what I write funny, if you think I am writing smut you are mistaken, inapppropriate plastic wrap usage, inappropriate cell phone usage, not really - Freeform, so I think that counts, with a bit of dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 11:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10966767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WackyGoofball/pseuds/WackyGoofball
Summary: Brienne can't believe it.That Jaime dared to do that to her.And her phone.At the office no less.I suck at summaries, y'all know it.





	1. All is Fair in Love and Prank War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanyelN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyelN/gifts).



> Hello everyone, thanks for looking into this... late story. 
> 
> I actually started writing that thing in the hope to post it on, name has it, April 1. 
> 
> That did not happen thanks to a certain bitch called writer's block preventing me from most of the fun things. So I had to let it rest for such a long time. 
> 
> Now I brought myself to finish it. I just really want to get that fic off my chest because it's been glaring at me for such a long time. so yeah, just having a bit of fun in the hope that this will help me maneuver out of the depths of the writer's block.
> 
> A-n-y-w-a-y, here we are now, almost 2 months later, and that fic is done. I decided to add an epilog. I guess you wouldn't have to read it in order to gain closure, but I thought it'd be a nice thing to add. 
> 
> Is there anything else I have to keep in mind... 
> 
> Oh yeah, still no native, still no beta. I just toss those things out as they come to me, you have been warned. 
> 
> I gift this to DanyelN because DanyelN is fab and deserves better fic than I write, but I try anyway. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this. 
> 
> Much love! ♥♥♥

“Brienne!”

“No.”

“Wench, c’mon. Stop already!”

“I said that I am sorry!”

“Brienne!”

“BRIENNE OF TARTH!”

 _Alright, that’s it_ , Brienne thinks to herself as she whirls around on the sidewalk abruptly to face the man who shamed her in such a way that she would like to strangle him – if only that was not _sort of_ prohibited by the law.  

Her cheeks are red from anger boiling beneath her skin, on the verge of spilling out. Her fists clench and unclench as she looks at him through narrowed eyes.

 _That’s all thanks to him!_ Brienne thinks to herself, her entire body feeling as though it is about to snap into two from the tension pulling on every muscle and sinew. _And just why is the way to the parking lot so damn long?!_

“Can we please talk about this now?” Jaime asks, drawing out the “e”-sound of the “please”. He holds up his hands as a gesture of reassurance, though it makes Jaime look like he is trying to calm a wild beast, and that only adds fuel to the fire burning hot and unforgiving in the pit of Brienne’s stomach.

He made that joke about her being “a great beast of a woman” too often already.

And that he has the effrontery to bring that back in a situation such as this only makes it so much worse, to the point that Brienne honestly starts to consider just tackling her way too good-looking, arrogant, annoying co-worker to the ground to knock some of the sense he seems to have lost right back into his trained body.

“Let me think about it – no,” she snaps.

Brienne doesn't want to talk. At all. She wants to go home now, pretend that this never happened, lie down on her bed face-down and just wait for this day to pass.

She doesn’t want to hear halfhearted excuses, teasing jests, or comments about her overreacting.

She doesn’t want any of this.

“Oh Seven Hells, c’mon now. You are blowing this up way out of proportion,” Jaime grumbles.

_And here we go…_

“I am…,” she already means to yell at the top of her voice, but then stops herself. “I won’t put up with this.”

 _That is what he wants_ , Brienne reminds herself, mentally counting to ten to somehow contain her blazing anger.

That is _just_ what he wants: that she gets upset and yells at him. That is what this is all about. What it’s _always_ about with Jaime Lannister. Provoking her to anger. Teasing her. Making her blush. Making her feel uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. Pushing her that one step past any boundary, testing the waters, not caring for the water that thus spills out.

And if that is the last bit of satisfaction that Jaime is seeking, then Brienne is _more_ than willing to destroy that pleasure for him.

_How does it go? All is far in love and war._

And Brienne, right at this moment, is only out for one thing: War.

“It was one little joke and you are acting as though I murdered your cat,” Jaime tells her, puckering his lips, looking way too much like a teenager than a grown man right at this moment.

“I don’t have a cat,” Brienne says in a monotonous voice.

“A dog?” He frowns, that hint of a smile never leaving his features.

_Damn him._

“You embarrassed me in front of the whole staff! I am angry at your _little joke_ for damn good reason!” Brienne insists, trying her best to keep her voice levelled.

Because she cannot afford to give him that last advantage if she wants to have only the smallest of victories in the war, however futile the project is at the very onset.

But sometimes you have to do things out of principle.

Sometimes you have to draw a line, even if it’s only just in the sand.

“Do you want me to buy you a dog? Will that solve the problem?” Jaime asks, blinking at her.

She has to resist any urge not to just as him if he is being for real right now, because deep-down she knows by now that Jaime’s approach to solving problems very often involves the Lannister Method: A Lannister always pays his debts. Which is the equivalent to “tell me your price and I will pay it.”

It’s just that Jaime still doesn’t seem to comprehend that he can’t buy his freedom with whatever it may be, at least not when it comes to Brienne.

Needless to mention that buying her a dog is most definitely nowhere only just close to a viable solution.

Brienne’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she goes on to say, “I don’t want a pet. And you really think that buying me _whatever_ will fix what you have done?!”

“What have I done exactly? It’s April 1st! You really think I’d just let that slip?” he argues, gesturing with his hands, the message clearly being “isn’t that plainly obvious?”

“I hoped that a grown man like you would long since have moved past playing pranks, yes,” Brienne hisses.

 _Yes, I had that much faith in you, just that you greatly disappointed the trust I put in you not to do such a thing to me of all people_! she wants to say, but does not.

“I was just trying to be _funny_. I thought you’d laugh… after some cursing, scowling, and yelling, as you always do,” Jaime replies, rolling is shoulders. “But I really thought you’d get the joke eventually.”

“You thought I’d laugh about what?! That you made a joke of me at the office?! You really think that I find that _funny_?!” Brienne retorts.

Brienne doesn’t know if he is honestly convinced that this was humorous, no more, no less, or if he is just so profound in keeping up his masquerade – which Brienne loathes with a burning passion – to conceal the fact that he very well knows why she wouldn’t find this funny by any means.

_But that is the thing with Jaime Lannister, he doesn’t like to let on._

She learned to accept that circumstance long time ago, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying.

Jaime is way too much about easy smiles, easy comments, meaning-nothing gestures and words that he retreats from the moment on he says them, or realizes that they have an effect contrary to what he thought it would be.

Brienne can still vividly remember he got all funny about her legs “going on forever” when they worked on a shared project late at night, stuck at the office, after Brienne pulled up one of the empty chairs to elevate her legs for a bit because she was that close to getting a cramp. When she asked him to repeat what he just said, Jaime made up something completely else, and started joking at her expenses, though Brienne is most certain that she heard him say it.

For a guy as confident in himself as Jaime Lannister, and for a man who is very much intent on sticking to his promises, a man who is unafraid of pretty much anything, Jaime likes to chicken out of certain issues with the smoothness of a cat.

_But not today._

She won’t let him off the hook that easily, not after that whole mess he brought about.

“I still don’t know what the _public_ upset was that you keep mentioning? Like, no one around the office even seemed to care until you almost slapped me upon entering the bullpen,” Jaime argues, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I _should_ have slapped you!” Brienne grumbles.

And she was _damn_ close to doing it, when he walked up to her all boldly, with his typical bounce in his step as he almost waltzed his way over to her desk, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face the moment he set eyes on her.

Brienne’s fist had already started curling when she saw him approach, indecisive whether to slap, hit, grab by the collar, or straight-out strangle him. However, in the end, she _obviously_ didn't do it. That only would have brought more unwanted attention to a situation Brienne would rather erase from public memory altogether.

And that is what makes this whole joke of his sting ever the more. Jaime should know that this is something she tries to bypass by any means. He should know by now that this personally affects her. She told him how stuff like that hurt her real bad during her high school times, and back then, the bastard showed understanding.

_But of course, for the sake of the joke serving Jaime Lannister’s amusement, that is something easily dismissed._

“You know you are being overly dramatic right now, yes?” he huffs, daring to sound a bit offended now as well.

“I am _not_ being overly dramatic. I have been acting as civilly as possible, despite the fact that you did what you did,” Brienne tells him in a low voice.

_Even now he can’t bring himself to pretend that he is sorry!_

“But _what_ did I do?!” Jaime asks with a confused facial expression that makes Brienne want to punch him ever the more.

“You already admitted _that_ you did it, so why do you still pretend like you don’t know what I am talking about?!”

_This is simply not making any sense._

Jaime normally owns up to his mistakes, which is something she always appreciated about him. And he specifically owns up to his jokes, taking a strange sort of pride in them, but now Jaime acts like he didn’t do it? They both _know_ that he did.

_So where is the sense in pretending now?_

“Because I genuinely do not understand why you are so freaking out about a small April Fools prank, other than that you nearly never care about that kind of… you know, _fun_? Ever heard of that?” Jaime questions, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“That was _no_ fun for me! And I am not willing to be yours source of humoring yourself,” Brienne retorts, stomping her foot on the ground. “I thought I made that clear often enough by now.”

“Huh?!” Jaime frowns at her yet again as though she just started to talk in High Valyrian.

“Don’t you huh me now!” she snaps.

“I am huh-ing you because I have honestly absolutely no clue just where the upset is coming from,” he tells her, gesticulating wildly.

“Where my _upset_ is coming from?! Are you trying to make another great joke of yours? Jaime, you already confessed. Now I would just like to know why you still find it funny to pretend that this was not meant to embarrass me in front of the entire staff, “she curses. “Needless to mention that I could potentially sue you for this.”

“ _Sue me_?! Okay, now I really think you are being a bit over the top,” he snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “My lady.”

Brienne narrows her eyes at him.

Wench, my lady, even now he can’t stop with the stupid nicknames.

“You took my cellphone and had it hacked!” Brienne exclaims.

If she has to spell it out, then so she will, if only to put an end to this guessing game. Because Brienne is not up for games. She is up for war. That, or waving the white flag to flee the scene. While Brienne is normally someone to always fight till the bitter end, she just feels so entirely drained that she feels damn well tempted to just turn around and go, let him have his stupid victory, and go home, to a safe place free of this entire madness.

_So long I don't pick up my phone or maybe even switch on TV. Who knows if Jaime didn’t buy airing time on **WOLF News**. _

“ _Hacked_? No, I am just smart enough to have guessed your PIN code,” Jaime argues, wriggling his index finger at her.

Brienne gapes at him. “You guessed my PIN code?!”  

“5128, _obviously_.” He replies, rolling his shoulders, acting as though this sentence was the equivalent to a wisdom such as “water is wet.”

“How do you…,” Brienne mutters, but then stops herself, shaking her head.

He is lying, and Brienne can’t afford to keep falling for his jokes or else she will never get a chance to crawl out of that hole he keeps digging ever again.

“You hired someone to hack my phone. Jaime, that is illegal,” she concludes.

“I did not. I guessed it.”

“How would you have guessed it?!” Brienne questions, folding her arms in front of her flat chest.

“That is a good question.”

“Most kind of you to make me such a compliment,” Brienne huffs, rolling her eyes.

“I figured it out after good research and my exceptional powers of observation.”

“You are not at all sounding arrogant while saying so.”

He grins at her, chuckling softly once, before he focuses again, holding up his index finger in a lecturing manner.

“You tried to include the letters for your most precious word ever, _oath_. So you went with the number they take up in the alphabet. That gave you o, 15, a, 1, t, 20, and h, 8. So _obviously_ , that code would be too long. Thus, you switched o and a to cancel the 1 for the o’s 15, and shortened the t’s 20 to 2. Man, you are _so_ obvious,” Jaime rambles, which only brings Brienne to tilt her head to the side in utter confusion.

Only Jaime Lannister would come up with such logic, so she learned ever since she started at the company and had the pleasure, _or rather_ _pain_ , of having to work with him from day one onward.

Jaime always gets _overly_ excited about his newest inspiration or train of thought – and while Brienne cannot deny that his ideas oftentimes turn out to be good, some plainly aren’t, despite his pondering on their utter amazingness in each and every case, a glistening in his eyes as he starts to paint his ideas with words and gestures, every time anew.

And if Brienne is being honest with herself, it is quite satisfactory to burst those little bubbles for him by pointing out those little inconsistencies, making his plan falter before he can finish decorating it with words. Though she wouldn’t ever say so out loud, or else Jaime would instantly jump on the idea again that they are quite alike.

_Because no, we are not. At all._

Brienne lets out a sigh. Apparently, that is a bubble she can burst with ease. And she has to fire some shots if she wants to gain only the smallest of victories.

“… Okay, not that I owe you an explanation for this, but since I am going to change my PIN code now anyway… I chose that PIN because 5128 is the name of one of the brightest stars you can see especially on Tarth during clear nights, it’s part of the _Moon Maid_ constellation,” Brienne explains.

“Oh,” Jaime says, making the face he always makes when she bursts a bubble for him. While most people probably find that endearing, Brienne finds it only ever the more infuriating because they shouldn’t be discussing her PIN code, but how he ever came to the idea that it was alright to steal it to use it for his awful prank.

“So how would you derive that number again?” Brienne asks, shaking her head. “Thanks to your _oh so_ great power of observation?”

“Okay, truth be told now, I simply saw you typing it in, with my oh so great observation skills, and what I just mentioned is what I thought may have been the reason why you chose that PIN,” he admits, drawing out a long breath, sounding disappointed as usual for having his bubble burst by her. “Geez.”

“That still means you took my phone!” Brienne argues, trying to get back on topic here.

_Because no, the world doesn’t revolve around Jaime Fuckin’ Lannister alone! No matter how much he may want to believe that to be the case._

“I didn’t read any of your messages, I didn’t go through any of your personal stuff, other than your ringtone settings. You can trust me on this,” Jaime assures her.

_As though that mattered!_

“Why should I _trust_ you after what you’ve done to me?!” Brienne cries out in exasperation.

_That he even dares to take the word “trust” into his mouth after betraying just that when he took her phone to hijack it for his April Foolery…_

“I thought we agreed that we had a truce,” Jaime argues, puckering his lips.

_Oh, right, the truce!_

Ever since Brienne started at the company, the two were forced to work together, and they truly hated each other’s guts in the beginning. It was a constant battle, just without swords.

_Well, there was that one incident with the paper knives, but no one was hurt… severely._

_In any case_ …

They were practically at each other’s throats half the time they should have been working. The people already started talking. Some said they acted like an old married couple, which only added more fuel to either side because “how dare they?” and “that is only because you act like this”. Others, Bronn of the Blackwater foremost, said that they should “bang it out” to stop the folly. Other voices grew louder, stating that they feared for their lives whenever those two forces of nature clashed within the limited space of Jaime’s office.

_Which may have been partly true because there was yet another incident involving a rubber band and a flying stapler. Though that was obviously entirely Jaime’s fault._

It went as far as Tyrion having Jaime summoned to his office, as the staff manager, to discuss this “inacceptable situation.” Brienne took some private spiteful glee that Jaime was the one ordered there first, and that he, according to his report to her later on, got the talk about how he as someone of his rank and name around the office cannot allow to make such a fool of himself.

Brienne’s spiteful glee was short-lived, however, since she was ordered to Tyrion’s office almost immediately thereafter, which had Jaime almost rolling on the floor, laughing.

In the staff manager’s office, Tyrion pointed out to her that Jaime filed a sexual harassment complaint against her, claiming that she touched him inappropriately during a fight they had. Brienne had to therefore explain to Tyrion in turn that she had smacked him after he called her “wench.” She went on to say that, if anything, she should file such a complaint about Jaime, after he slapped her on the rear after a successful presentation, and held on for at least three seconds, even giving her below a squeeze.

Tyrion just broke out laughing after that, almost falling off his chair, his small legs dangling like that of a child, tears in his eyes. Though back then, Brienne found that anything but funny, of course.

A day later, both were summoned to Tyrion’s office, and were forced to sit down next to each other, which made either one feel as though they had gotten themselves an obligatory couple therapy.

Something neither one approved of by any means, however.

Jaime instantly started to talk about how he was “uncomfortable” and “unsafe” sitting next to the “aggressor,” which resulted in Brienne kicking him in the shin, which he then tired to use as evidence of her violent behavior towards him. Tyrion was having none of it, and told them that they either find a way of truce now, or the office would be forced to run two separate investigations for sexual harassment, which entailed an actual lawsuit, questioning, and many other things Tyrion listed, no missing its effect on making them reconsider.

Thus, the two, if begrudgingly, agreed to a truce.

And out of the truce grew a strange sort of friendship, over time: Having lunch together, going to the gym together, occasionally watching movies together. Because both have a guilty pleasure for watching those awful rom-coms and horror movies with terrible acting, horrific scripts, and the worst kissing scenes known to humankind.

It’s not that they no longer argue, _far from it_ , they just don't take it out while the officials are around, but rather transported their jesting and fighting to the realm of the private.

_Well, but Jaime definitely overstepped that line by far today._

“You just broke the truce!” Brienne insists.

He can’t bring up the truce only just at his convenience and otherwise not pay any attention to it, that’s not how it works.

“It was a harmless joke. I changed your friggin’ ringtone. Geez. That’s no major crime, Brienne, as much as you try to make it out to be.” Jaime rolls his eyes.

Brienne can do nothing much but stare at him in turn.

_Now, **that** has to be a joke. _

“A harmless… a _harmless_ joke?!” she stutters, not quite believing it yet that this is how he labels it.

“Yes, _harmless_. It’s not like I put petroleum jelly on your steering wheel or so, because that can be dangerous, by the way,” he points out to her, leaving Brienne wondering if that was on his list of things he could do to her today as well, but then deemed too dangerous even to his liking, or if his mind is just randomly popping up with those ideas.

_Or maybe a combination of all of the aforementioned. One can never know with Jaime Lannister._

“First, you sneak on me to figure out my PIN code, steal my phone, go through my phone information, change the setting, _and then_ , to top it all, you embarrass me in front of the entire staff. Oh, and now you have the effrontery to tell me that I am the one overreacting here!” Brienne snaps. “I don't call that harmless by any means!”

“I honestly thought you’d get the joke,” Jaime insists, as though nothing ever happened.

“I _got_ the joke, I am not dumb.”

“I know you aren’t dumb. You are just bloody well stubborn.”

Brienne narrows her eyes at him, but chooses to ignore that comment. She has to focus her energy on the topic at hand right now.

“So, while I do understand the punch line, I just don't see how that is funny for anyone but you,” Brienne retorts, but then looks at him with utter disappointment. “You know, I really thought you meant it with the truce and wanting to be friends, but I was seemingly mistaken.”

Jaime’s eyes widen at that, shock flitting across his features as though she had just punched him right in the gut. “What?! You want to break up with me?! It was a prank!”

“And it has gone too far this time around, Jaime,” she argues. “I though you were genuine about the truce, but that’s apparently not the case, looking at this whole mess here.”

“I _was_ genuine about it! Seven Hells, I _am_! Seven Hells another time, we regularly go to the gym together and always have lunch together! You can’t tell me that we quit that now – and that only because you can’t take a joke!” Jaime cries out in utter desperation.

Yes, _desperation_ , Brienne is sure of that. Not that this helps her confusion in any way, however, or her mood, for the matter. If anything, it only adds irritation to her already jumbled mind.

Regardless, Jaime should have known that this wouldn’t be without consequence.

 _So why is he even surprised after the stunt he pulled? For all to see._ _Or rather, **hear**. _

“I don’t think I have to take such a thing as a joke,” she tells him coldly.

“I just changed your friggin’ ringtone!” he insists.

And that makes it ever the more hilarious to have him call her stubborn – Brienne never met a man as stubborn as Jaime Lannister.

“To the sound of two people…,” she growls, but then lowers her voice to a whisper. “Two people being… _intimate_.”

She has to try hard to fight the blush threatening to creep up her cheeks at the mere thought. Not only was the timing the _worst_ imaginable, not only was it about that… but it also sounded _absolutely_ realistic.

“C’mon, that _is_ funny, even for a prudish woman like you!”

Brienne’s mouth falls open.

_This just keeps getting better and better._

“ _Prudish_?! Prudish! I don’t think it’s out of the world for me to take offense in such a thing!” she retorts.

“You seriously want to quit our friendship because I changed your ringtone?” Jaime demands to know. “If that’s the case, you don't seem to be the one who’s serious about the friendship because to break up over such a thing entails that you don't feel very strongly about it, which I find very disappointing in turn.”

“Hey, no, you don't get to turn tables on me for that,” Brienne snaps, shaking her head. “I was always sincere about the truce, just like I was about the friendship. And if you don’t know that after all the time we spent together, I have to question myself in turn just how serious you took this relationship.”

“But you do realize that it’s a bit of a reach to quit a friendship over a changed ringtone?”

“I think it’s just reasonable to consider a _break-up_ after my so-called friend had no better to do than change my ringtone to two people…,” Brienne means to say, but Jaime completes the sentence before she can, “Fucking.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s cute that you can’t say the filthy words. They were _fucking_ and _moaning_ ,” Jaime smiles at her with the dirtiest of grins he can muster. “ _Loudly_.”

“I don't have to put up with this,” Brienne says, waving her hand at him dismissively.

Maybe she was wrong about the war metaphors. This is a fight she likely will not win because the damage is already done and because Jaime is incorrigible. Similarly, it’s a lost cause anyway because this happened, there is no way of undoing it, and it’s entirely Jaime’s fault.

_The wiser head gives in, isn’t it?_

If Jaime wants to play stupid even now that he uncovered himself, then that is his business.

 _Perhaps that whole friendship was a bad idea in the first place_ , Brienne thinks to herself bitterly, burning hot fire being replaced by a sickening pull on her guts, because this friendship means something to her, despite the headaches Jaime continues to give her.

They are way too different, despite the few overlaps they have in terms of interests, hobbies, and values. It’s not like Brienne isn’t used to Jaime fooling around – best example being the sexual harassment complaint – however, that he would shame her so publicly against the odds of their unwritten contract is too much even for Brienne to swallow. She can deal with a man-child like Jaime, if he is having one of his moods, _which he has more often than he should_ , but she cannot have that escalate at work the way it just did.

You have to draw a line at some point, and Brienne draws it between work and private most definitely. She can’t afford to let her private life to infiltrate her job.

Jaime doesn’t have to bother about such things because his father is the boss, and because, plainly he is Jaime Lannister. Whatever he does is considered bold or funny. When he lets on some anecdote about stupid life choices, people laugh along with him. If some of Brienne’s past experiences make their way into the office discourse, she can be sure to get glances of disapproval, whispers behind the back, and laughter directed at her and not with her.

Brienne wants to keep her position at the company, and if her so-perceived friend has no better to do than torpedo her standing in the firm, then she has no other choice but to do damage control.

_Right?!_

Brienne already turns to leave, but that is when Jaime shouts out to her, “C’mon, Brienne. Now don’t walk away again.”

“You are still making fun of me!” she insists. “And I am fed up with that!”

She is simply fed up, tired, exhausted, drained, sad, even. And Brienne cannot afford to have any more of a meltdown within the public space of the parking lot. She had enough of that for the day.

_A lifetime, possibly._

“Look, I shall try my best not to make any more jokes, but this one? You delivered it right to my face, c’mon. You know me, wench. I cannot resist that urge. Sass is in the Lannister DNA along with the arrogance! Right next to alcohol resistance and a certain amount of ruthlessness,” Jaime argues.

Brienne runs her palm over her face with a sigh. She should just walk away, she _knows_ , but somehow, Jaime always makes her stay, even if she wants nothing but turn away and take her leave.

He is someone she cannot escape, no matter how hard she tries. And that is scary for Brienne. While she is not one to run away from trouble, there is something deeply unsettling about the idea of having someone in her life who is… well, like Jaime… and finding herself unable to just quit and walk away from to never speak to again, as she has done it with the likes of her exes Hyle and Ronnet.

She walked out, never looked back, shed some tears in private, but that was the end of it. However, with Jaime, there is no end to anything.

He makes her stay, and Brienne loathes him for it about as much as she hates herself for letting that happen.

“Fine, then explain it to me how you find it not over the line to change that ringtone to… _what it was_ … and then friggin’ call me on my phone as I am in a meeting with the boss, your Father, your brother, and his assistant, Mr. Blackwater.”

“WHAT?!” Jaime cries out, his eyes opening wide in utter… _shock?!_

Now, where does _that_ come from?

“What?!” Brienne echoes him, not knowing what to make of this just now. Because she can tell that this shock is genuine… _or is it?_

“I… that’s not possible!” Jaime argues disbelievingly.

“It is possible because that is exactly what happened,” Brienne argues, shaking her head in confusion.

“No, that’s not possible because that was not part of the plan,” Jaime argues, seemingly going over the details of his oh so great plan inside his mind, running his index finger and thumb over the corners of his mouth as he ponders on those possibilities.

“Now I have to ask you: What are _you_ talking about? Jaime, you timed it so that it’d ring during that meeting, so that people would hear that from my phone! Great joke!” Brienne huffs.

Jaime shakes his head frantically. “No, no, no. Now you listen to me. That is… that is not at all what I intended to do.”

“So you _accidentally_ stole my phone, changed my ringtone _by mistake_ , and just _fell_ on your own phone to call me at just that moment?!” she snorts, buying none of it.

_He could at least try to come up with a passable lie. He is good at that! A natural almost!_

“You had no meeting set up. I know that. I checked your schedule.”

Brienne curls her lips into a frown, making a mental note to lock up all of her personal belongings because that means he went through her calendar which lies on her desk the same way he went through her phone.

“Bronn came by and asked me if I had a moment to talk to them. About a promotion, which, I may add, is now likely out the window thanks to your foolery,” Brienne tells him through gritted teeth. “So you tell me again how that was such a harmless joke?”

She has been working so hard for this promotion – and now it’s all out the window thanks to Jaime’s stupid prank with her stupid phone with the two stupid people moaning their climax at full volume.

“FUCK!” he yells, clutching at his golden curls roughly. Brienne folds her arms over her chest once more, looking at him expectantly, “So? Are we now on the same page that this was _not_ okay?”

“Oh, by the Seven, Brienne, I am so incredibly sorry,” Jaime apologizes hurriedly. “You had texted me that you were coming down for lunch. You should have been out of the building by the time I called.”

“Out of the building?” Brienne repeats, still trying to wrap her head around this.

So having her embarrassed in front of his father was not the plan Jaime had in mind? Not that this makes this much better, but that removes some of the worst charges she’d mean to bring up against him.

“I will admit, the joke was a bit mean…,” he begins, to which she just glowers at him. Jaime ducks his head slightly.

“Fine, it was _pretty_ mean, but the way I had it planned, I wanted to call you as you walked over to my car. I thought that either you’d be on your own, or that there’d be some strangers you’d never see again in a lifetime,” Jaime argues, sounding so very credible that it only earns Brienne more stomach aches. “I wanted to make a joke as you approached. The way it happened now, I wasn’t even around, which spoiled the whole pay-off for me. You see that was not at all my agenda.”

“So you didn’t mean to embarrass me in front of your father, brother, and his assistant?”

“What? _No_. I just wanted to play a prank on you, but I was honestly convinced that no one you would have to bother about would be anywhere close to you, I swear by the Old Gods and the New, Brienne. There is no one in the parking lot around the time because all go to the cafeteria, despite the fact that they serve shit for food. I was sure that no one we know would come by,” Jaime insists.

“You mean that.”

Jaime touches his chest with his left hand. “Look at me and tell me – do you think I am lying?”

Brienne looks at him for a long moment – and the answer becomes clear almost instantly as she sees the truth radiating in his vibrant, emerald eyes. “… No.”

It took her some time to figure out when Jaime is telling the truth and when he is just being full of shit, because that man can lie like no other.

For instance, Jaime had her believe for the longest of times that he helped overtake Aerys Targaryen’s company out of malice during his internship there years ago, so that _Baratheon Industries_ could raise claims and take over the business.

It is actually commonly believed that Jaime was sent there by Tywin to spy on Aerys, but it’s far from the truth Brienne got to learn in the course of a blooming friendship between the two, a truth shared over some beers at a pub. Jaime explained to her that he really, in all earnest, wanted to work at _Targ Corp_. because it was such a prestigious organization. Only to uncover the abuses and illegal activities there, which Jaime reported, despite the fact that employees of the higher ranks, including the likes of Arthur Dayne or Gerold Hightower, told him to stay low.

The thing was that it was swept under the rug by authorities later on because the Targaryens are, to this day, big guns in politics as well as economy, so they passed it off as structural changes, which were, at its core, the removal of anything Aerys laid hands on to give over to the Baratheons instead. For that, _Lannister Enterprise_ was greatly rewarded and they formed a business alliance granting them almost monopoly status.

And, from their perspective, Jaime’s reputation was a little price to pay therefore, or so he explained. So he accepted the whispers, accepted the nickname of the Kingslayer, and let it all wash over him, doing his job, keeping his head low.

It was only during that moment that Brienne learned about the true Jaime a bit more, his true self, the one he keeps mostly hidden behind smug smiles, and lewd comments.

And looking at him now as he stands before her, she can see the same kind of eyes, the same kind expression.

“Fuck, that is… I am so sorry. Okay, uhm… damage control… damage control…,” Jaime mutters, mentally going through the options, tapping his index fingers against the pockets of his trousers.

“What? What do you mean with _‘damage control’_? I think I should be writing my discharge letter, judging by the way your father looked at me in horror,” Brienne retorts.

He screwed up enough by now, Brienne doesn’t want matters to get any worse.

“I will clarify this,” he tells her with resolution ringing in his voice.

“Jaime…,” she sighs, but her interrupts her, holding up his hands.

“I. Will. Clarify. This,” Jaime insists, grasping her by the shoulders to look her deep in the eye. “So, you just stay put. I will handle it.”

“You don't get to tell me what to…,” Brienne means to object, but he interrupts her, “Just stay here, I am going to take care of it. Be a good wench and listen to me for once.”

“The damage is done,” Brienne exhales wearily.

“Yeah, but I can clear up the situation.”

“Jaime.”

“You’ll just have to trust me.”

The words linger in the air for a long while – in fact long enough for Brienne not to realize how his hands leave her shoulders, and before she can even realize it, her colleague is rushing off, back inside the building.

You need trust to have a truce.

And as it appears, she now has to have trust in their truce the same way.

Or else Brienne will have no choice but to declare war on Jaime Lannister.

_That, or look for a new job, whichever comes first._

 

 

Brienne stands on the sidewalk for a long moment, blankly looking at the concrete building into which Jaime disappeared in a hurry.

At some point she knows she shouldn’t even be surprised at his impromptu attempt of wanting to fix what Brienne believes to be an unfixable situation now anyway. Jaime is a man of action when it comes to these kinds of things. He can keep very calm in even the most heated situations, but Brienne witnessed more than once that Jaime went from total calm to freak out in less than a second… on her behalf specifically, so she learned.

There was that one time Roose Bolton came to the company for negotiations. It was about some possible bigger business ties between the two houses. When Roose requested that Brienne’s position could be shortened or interchanged with someone of his own company, Jaime almost jumped across the table to strangle that guy with gray suit and morale. Brienne rarely saw Jaime that furious, glowering at the man from Dreadfort as though he was short before using his paper knife as means of vendetta. However, on that occasion, it took Jaime about all of his self-control not to follow through with that. Brienne even found herself tapping the back of his hand underneath the table in a futile attempt to keep him from making a scene in the conference room. Nevertheless, that didn’t prevent Jaime from taking immediate steps to ensure that none of that happened.

By the time the meeting was over, he already had a ten-point plan about who to call, what contracts to revisit, and whose asses to kick. And that may have been one of those occasions where Brienne was the one who had a bubble burst for her, instead of the other way around.

That was the first time someone spoke up for her, with such a force.

And if that particular situation taught her anything about Jaime Lannister, then it is that for a man who can keep a cool head in almost every situation, he can act without thinking for only just a second just the same way.

_Well, and now seems to be one of those situations where he is anything but cool-headed, which may not be a good thing._

Brienne lets out a sigh, glancing up at the sun as colored dots starts to dance before her eyes.

 _There is no way of denying that Jaime Lannister understands to get people into trouble_ , she thinks to herself with a snort. _Or perhaps just me in particular?_

She shakes her head. While Brienne hates it, she has no other choice but to wait now.

Jaime worked some many miracles before, such as making Roose Bolton retreat back to Dreadfort only just a day after the patriarch made the proposal.

_Maybe he will work this one as well?_

Brienne sits down on the rim of one of the huge flower tubs made out of concrete, reckoning that she will have to see what becomes of it.

At the same time, Brienne mentally prepares for all the punishments she can reward him with in case Jaime does not succeed. Because if she loses her job thanks to this way too good-looking man full of smug smiles, lewd comments, and way too lush hair, Jaime should brace himself for a long Winter and many punches.

After a felt eternity, Jaime comes back outside again. Brienne stands up abruptly as he jogs up to her. She tries to read his expression, but fails completely.

“… What… happened?” Brienne asks, biting her lower lip. To her surprise, he laughs out loud, hands on either hip, his golden curls falling into his face.

“You will not believe it,” he says, flashing his brightly white teeth at her.

“You got me fired now on tops?” Brienne gapes.

“What? No, far from it,” Jaime laughs.

“Then what?”

_Just say it already!_

“The whole building is… apparently having some _fun_ times,” Jaime explains, trying hard to contain his laughter.

“Could you be _any_ more specific by any chance?”

“I don’t know what exactly happened, but as I was about to clear up the situation, all computers suddenly started playing the same ringtone that I installed on your phone,” Jaime says, only to break out laughing again. “It was an epic crescendo of two people reaching their climax in a very verbal way.”

Brienne just stares at him in utter disbelief. “What? You are making this up!”

“I am _not_. Even Father’s computer started to moan its… release.”

“Oh my goodness,” Brienne gasps, but then narrows her eyes at him. “But you didn’t…”

“I wouldn’t know how to pull that off even if I wanted to. It took me a lot of planning to get my hands on your phone to set up the ringtone. I’d have no clue how to hack into all of the computers simultaneously to make them ring out with that tune,” Jaime argues, holding up his hands.

“So that means someone else has been…,” Brienne mutters, and Jaime nods in approval. “Having some April Fools, yeah. Well, after that, Father obviously took immediate steps to have the moaning… come to its climax…”

“Jaime!” she shouts.

“You can’t expect me not to make those comments after what I just witnessed,” he insists, new laugher bubbling up deep in his throat. “This was _surreal_! Possibly the funniest thing in my entire life.”

“Could we now return to the main topic, namely if I get to keep my job, hm?” Brienne snaps. “You know, prioritizing?”

“Alright, alright. So, uhm… I talked to Father another time. You are still getting the promotion and now it seems that even if someone heard the moaning other than my Father or my brother, all share the same hilarious prank at their expenses now, so you no longer stand out as the only victim in any significant way. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we had the April Fools’ Fairy swing her magical wand in our favor, by having the ringtone cum…”

Brienne looks at him for a long moment, only to let out an unamused huff, “… Okay, great joke right there. I get it, April Fools and all. Ha-ha.”

Jaime gapes at her. “ _What_? No, I am serious about this!”

“ _Right_ ,” she snorts. “The April Fools Fairy. An entire office building getting hacked despite having the most up-to-date security software. Sure. And I am Ser Duncan the Tall.”

“Well, you once mentioned that you may even be related… I mean, you have the looks for it, and…”

“Jaime!”

“I am telling you, _that_ is what happened. You could go back inside right now and ask people – they’d confirm it, I assure you!” Jaime insists.

“As if I was going to do just that, and make even more of a fool of myself than I already did,” Brienne retorts, rolling her eyes. “Just for how dumb do you take me to be to walk into the same trap, _twice_?”

If he believes that he can fool her a second time with such a ridiculous story, then he is mistaken.

“What? _No_ , I know this sounds outrageous right now, but this is what happened, I swear it!”

“I don't care for what you swear! After what you did, I don’t believe you anything!” Brienne growls. She may be too easy-believing on way too many occasions, but if Jaime is under any illusion that she will fall for this a second time, he should definitely wake up from that fantasy, because it’s not happening.

_Enough is enough._

“But I am telling you the truth. _This_ is what happened.”

“And pigs flew past you as that happened?” she lets out a dry laugh.

“Well, technically, pigs _can_ fly, if only for a short moment, when you toss them far enough…,” Jaime points to her, his voice trailing off.

“Jaime!” she snaps.

“I don’t know what I am supposed to say that can convince you,” he laments.

“Because there is nothing to convince me! You lied to me!”

“Okay, now you are exaggerating again, Brienne. I played a prank. It went wrong, I will admit it, but you make it sound like an act of treason,” Jaime grumbles, rolling his eyes at her.

“Because you keep lying to me, still!” Brienne retorts.

And if there is one thing she cannot stand, then it is being lied to.

_And he should know that! He should know me better than that!_

“I am _not_ lying to you!”

“Says the man who just now claimed that someone, _miraculously_ , played the ringtone over all computers simultaneously to pull the attention away from my phone making those… _sounds_.”

“Because _that_ is what happened! Seriously, let’s go back inside and ask someone, c’mon,” he says, taking a hold of her wrist to pull her along. Brienne doesn’t move by only just an inch, however. Instead, she just stares at his hand enclosing her arm. _And for some damned reason_ , she can feel heat rising to her cheeks, and not exactly from only just the anger at this point, because the pit of her stomach starts to feel rather tingly instead of just burning hot like the Seven Hells combined.

“You probably have the entire staff in on the joke,” she concludes, not even looking at him.

She wouldn’t put it past him.

“Oh for goodness’ sake, Brienne. Don’t make yourself ridiculous. Now you are spinning conspiracy theories.”

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous this sounds?” Brienne insists, shaking her arm lightly to make him let go of her.

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous this was to _witness_?”

“That doesn’t convince me.”

Jaime gestures around wildly with growing frustration – and while Brienne can see that he _is_ frustrated, for whatever reason now exactly, she can’t bring herself to care, not after the trouble he caused her with his stupid joke.

She blows out air through her nostrils in a futile attempt to calm herself.

 _Be rational_ , she tells herself. _Be calm, say what you want, and then just go home to where there is no Jaime Lannister to screw things up for you!_

That plan sounds solid enough.

She just has to get away.

She has to.

Has to.

“Look, I…,” Brienne says, biting her lower lip, realizing at once that it’s still not any easier to leave him even when she has any reason and any motivation to do just that. “I simply had enough of all that. I will now go home, call in sick for the rest of the day, _whatever_. Then I’ll call your Father to clarify the situation, and if you believe for only just a second that I will have your back on this, you are gravely mistaken. I will tell him what happened, and you can hope for your own sake that this doesn’t get me into any further trouble than it already did.”

Jaime’s eyes flicker at her words.

Brienne knows that facial expression at once – he just had a new idea, which, as is the state of affairs right at this moment, more of a threat than a relief.

“Call him right now – and ask him about your promotion. If I was full of shit, you really think that _my Father_ would play along? The man allergic to fun and happiness?”

“I will _not_ call him to ask him that,” Brienne argues.

“Fine, then I’ll call him,” Jaime concludes, already starting to go through his pocket to fish out his phone.

“You will do no such thing!” Brienne snaps.

_Just why is he always testing me?!_

“How else am I supposed to prove it to you, huh?” Jaime retorts, waving around with his free hand as the thumb of his other hand slides over the smartphone’s screen.

“I don’t care. I am really just…,” Brienne stammers. “This is enough. I am going home now.”

She turns to leave, but yet again, he prevents her from it, keeping her from walking away from him. “Wait, wait, I am calling him now.”

“Stop that!”

“I don’t think so,” he hums, eyes fixed on the screen. 

“Jaime, put the phone away.”

“You’ll have to wrestle it from me, wench,” he tells her, shaking his head.

“Jaime!” Brienne shrieks, already reaching out to snatch it from him, but Jaime back-steps before she can reach him.

“Shhht, calling now,” Jaime hums, his free index finger pressed to his lips, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hang up already!” Brienne urges, desperation spreading inside her.

“… Father?”

Brienne’s heart sinks.

“Oh Seven Hells,” Brienne mutters, clutching at the sides of her head as she twists around on her heels.

And all that for only just a joke. Those are apparently the merits of living a life where you basically can do no wrong because you are born into the most influential family in all of Westeros.

_Unbelievable! Simply unbelievable!_

Though then again, Jaime once went as far as to drive at walking speed for over fifteen minutes to talk Brienne into finally getting into the car after they had a fight at the gym and she didn’t want to ride with him back home, since they normally take turns with picking each other up.

No matter how often Brienne told him to just get lost, Jaime kept driving next to her until she got into the car. Even though it was only just one more block until they reached her apartment.

So, at some point Brienne shouldn’t even be surprised at his stubbornness and his utter will to work something through till the bitter end. That is just Jaime.

_But I could damn well strangle him for just that behavior right now!_

“Did you get a handle on the computer situation just yet or are they still moaning? Yeah, uhm, I got a hold of Ms. Tarth. It seems that she thought that you canceled her promotion after that… well, small situation. Would you be so kind to talk to her for a moment to resolve that misunderstanding?” Jaime asks, his tone diplomatic, calm, the way he talks to business partners, clients, and employees.

He once told her in private that he tends to talk to his father like that in a long time now, because that is the only way he can maintain the masquerade of being the good son, the reliable one, who doesn’t make trouble, in an effort to keep the fragile peace between the family members. Because Tywin Lannister is a “shit of a father,” to quote Jaime, who only has expectations and disappointment to hand out to his three children, in varying degrees. Jaime also told her over some glasses of red arbor during a movie night that resulted in the first sleep-over at her condo that he is sick and tired of playing personal referee in the family, but feels obliged to do it to somehow keep them together outside the company, in the private.

Even if that means to bring some of the work back to the private.

It’s odd at times how the two end up having the same issue, if in reverse. Jaime has to involve the work into the private to somehow keep the private sphere intact, whereas Brienne is desperate in keeping the private out of her work, fearing that it’d bring her job sphere to collapse upon her.

Jaime holds the phone out to her, snapping Brienne back to the reality of him having called his father to clarify this situation. She stares at the device for a long moment.

“Go ahead. No joke. So don’t keep him waiting,” Jaime mutters, gesturing at her to finally take the cell phone from him, which she does hesitantly, fingers slightly shaking.

“If this is a joke, I am tossing it as far as I can,” she warns him in a low voice. “And you and I both know that I can toss _far_.”

“Just answer the phone already.”

_Right. First things first. Murdering his phone and possibly him as well can wait until after the conversation with my boss._

“Hello?” Brienne asks uncertainly, mentally preparing for blaring music, a voicemail by Jaime to tell him “haw-haw” for fooling her a second time, for all of it, if only just to bring this farce to an end. However, that when there is the dark voice of Tywin Lannister on the other end of the line, making her stand up a little straighter out of reflex.

“Ms. Tarth, you must excuse that I keep the conversation brief, but the technical difficulties that we could… already hear from your device… keep giving us trouble. So to be sure, you have your promotion. We will have to delay the conversation about the terms until next week. My secretary will schedule a meeting with you, yes?”

“I, uhm. Thank you, Mr. Lannister,” Brienne stammers, not quite believing what she hears.

“Is there anything else?” Tywin asks, clearly preoccupied with anything but this conversation.

“No, no… that was all,” Brienne replies in a weaker voice than she would like to have it, but she still can’t believe it, to tell the truth.

“If that is so… I still have some urgent business to attend, Ms. Tarth,” Jaime’s father goes on to say. She can hear him pressing his palm to the receiver so that she cannot hear what he is yelling across the room, though she clearly understands that Tyrion is supposed to finally stop laughing.

“Of, of course, Sir. Thank you very much,” she says in a stronger voice this time.

“Then we will talk next week, to clarify the details of your promotion. Until then.” And with that, Tywin hangs up. Brienne’s stares down at the cellphone still in her hand in utter disbelief.

_Did that happen just now?_

“Do you believe me now?” Jaime asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“I am still trying to wrap my head around this,” Brienne mutters.

“Yeah, that was… quite a mess. And I will say it again, I am sorry for the prank I played on you. I never meant for _that_ to happen. But… even you have to admit that this was kind of hilari…,” Jaime means, to say, only to let out a squeal as he finds himself pushed against the cemented flower bed in his back, to land in the brushes with a thud.

“Hey!” he shouts, but Brienne is having none of it as she takes her stance before him, tapping her index finger against his sternum repeatedly as she speaks, “This was _not_ hilarious. This was one of the worst days of my life despite the fact that I got my promotion today. So you deserve _far_ more than just landing in the brushes.”

“Fine, I guess I had that one coming,” Jaime grumbles, getting back up, tapping against his rear to remove some of the dirt.

If Brienne didn’t know that he has more than enough money to replace the trousers even if they were too dirty to ever be cleaned again, she would probably feel sorry right now, but since she knows he is stinking rich, Brienne cannot find it in herself to feel any sort of remorse.  

“You definitely did! You risked my career!”

“By accident, and de facto, _nothing_ happened to your career. Instead, you got the promotion that was long since overdue, as we both know. So could you calm down now?” Jaime grumbles.

“No, because I don't _want_ to calm down right now,” Brienne retorts, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

_Just because he dodged the bullet, not even thanks to his own doing, doesn’t mean he is off the hook now!_

“Maybe you want to make sure your ringtone is changed back to normal before we get another round of _oh yes_ , _harder_ , _right there_ , _mhhhhhhhhm_ ,” Jaime says with the dirtiest of grins that has Brienne on the verge of pushing him much harder into the flower bed another time.

“You are having way too much fun with this to make me believe for only just a second that you are genuinely sorry,” she hisses as she starts to fish out her own phone, because no, Brienne doesn’t need to hear those voices… _doing their **thing** … **ever** again_.

“I am! The fact that I am laughing at the ridiculousness of the overall situation doesn’t mean that I am lying to you,” he insists.

“For someone who prides himself with being able to fool any manager and wannabe-VIP into believing that he actually gives a damn on them when in fact he does not, you fail quite miserably now,” Brienne grumbles as she goes through her ringtone settings. “Just so that you know.”

“That’s because I care about you, obviously,” he says, out of the blue.

Brienne looks up at him with a blank expression, blinking repeatedly, waiting for him to correct himself, nullify his statement, verbally undo all of his commitments, the way he always does, but seconds pass with just him look at her in bewilderment.

“ _What_?” he asks with a nervous frown when Brienne remains silent for a very long moment.

“… I am waiting for the punch line,” she replies simply.

“No punch line, oh Seven Hells! Will you take anything I say as a joke from now on?” he grounds out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Perhaps I should?” She rolls her shoulders. “I mean, you give me any reason to favor that option!”

“ _No_? Could we now just scratch that whole April Fools thing? I played my prank, it’s over now. So this is me being serious again,” he argues, gesturing at his face.

“Right,” she snorts.

“Wench, don’t make this more complicated than it already is.”

“I don’t feel like I have to make this easy on you,” Brienne huffs, raising an eyebrow at him, to which Jaime narrows his eyes. “So you are purposely playing the difficult one right now?”

“Perhaps? Who knows?” she huffs, leaning her head to the side.

He laughs out loud at that. “Brienne of Tarth, you still tend to surprise me.”

“Quit that smug smile already,” Brienne hisses.

“You know that this is part of my DNA.”

“Will you blame just everything on your precious Lannister DNA?” Brienne rolls her eyes.

“I guess it's just rubbing off – Father is obsessed with it, you know that, carefully planning to use said Lannister DNA to further the family empire and secure the family lineage through that oh so precious seed,” he says, to which she tells him in a sing-song, “And I still don't care.”

“Okay, let me ask this way around: What do I have to do in order to earn my lady’s forgiveness, hm?”

_Oh, so now we are back to “my lady” again!_

“I don’t want _anything_! Other than a time machine to undo this whole day. But since that is not part of your precious Lannister DNA, I guess there is no way of helping that,” Brienne retorts.

Jaime should know by now that material things mean little to nothing to Brienne. A chocolate bar or the Seven know what else he would come up with just aren’t going to fix that by any means. There is no way of fixing it because he played his prank at her expenses and if not for the miraculous incident of all technical devices catching on to that, _let’s say, virus_ , that made her the joke in front of the entire company.

Jaime may be very good at finding solutions even in the most desperate situations, as he has proven on multiple occasions when they worked on projects together, but there is no way that he can just sneak out of that.

“But there has to be _something_!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” she repeats in a flat voice – because he just never listens when it comes to these things.

“I could let you win at the gym next time?” he offers, seemingly running through the options yet again. Brienne rolls her eyes.

_Just why won’t that guy ever stop?!_

“I beat you all the time,” Brienne snorts, amused.

“I beg to differ.”

“You can _beg to differ_ all you want, but even if you were to beat me more often than you actually do, which you do _not_ , what merit would it bring me to have you lose on purpose?” Brienne argues, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“You’d win?”

“But that victory would mean nothing.”

“You always have to overcomplicate these matters,” Jaime grumbles, shaking his head. “I am making an effort – and you are not at all helpful!”

“Well, in any case, that won’t do by any means – because there is nothing you can do. How often do I have to repeat that until you finally comprehend what I am telling you?” Brienne insists.

“Uhm, you get to boss Bronn around?” Jaime goes on, perfectly ignoring the latter part of her last sentence.

Brienne pinches the bridge of her nose.

_Talk about stubbornness._

“Bronn is Tyrion’s personal assistant – and why would I want to boss him around?” she points out to him, unimpressed.

“Bronn is an employee like any other – so if I tell him he has to work for you… he has to… _okay_ , Bronn may be not the best choice because he is going to go bitching about it and not do anything to be productive. I still think Tyrion only just hired him to have a drinking buddy to share Whiskey from the flask with, right behind the copying machines.”

“Could we just leave this alone now?”

“ _No_ , you don't want to be friends with me anymore, so, obviously, we can’t leave this alone until this is clarified, wench. I owe you a debt, so we have to settle the price, hm? This would be much easier if only you just told me what you wanted, but the stubborn thing you are, I have to get the truth out of you, or I have to make an educated guess.”

“Not very educated until now,” Brienne snorts.

“I am trying!” Jaime argues, only to then ask bluntly, “So, what about dinner?”

Brienne blinks at him. “You suggest that we do what we do every damn time we get lunch to make up for that whole debacle inside?”

“You have to listen more carefully. I said ‘dinner,’ _not_ ‘lunch,’ there is a huge difference,” Jaime argues, a slight grin creeping up his lips that Brienne cannot put at all. “Gods, you should know these kinds of things. Or do you live on the other side of the moon?”

“And what would that oh so great difference be that I am unaware of?” she questions. “On either occasion you buy and consume food you didn’t have to cook yourself. The only thing that’s different are likely the location and the time.”

“ _Lunch_ is getting delis at _Hot Pie’s Café_. To escape food poisoning from this hell of a cafeteria still claiming to sell food. _Dinner_ is a fancy place with candles, and tablecloth not made out of paper so you can draw dicks on it…,” he explains, though Brienne interrupts him with the smallest of smirks, “Which is what you always do and take mischievous delight in.”

In fact, Brienne is convinced that this is one of the primary reasons why he wants to get lunch at _Hot Pie’s Café_. Jaime finds it _incredibly_ funny to draw on the paper tablecloths to have Brienne guess what it is. Most of the time, it’s obviously naughty pictures and riddles, with a few intermezzos of tic-tac-toe he always ends up losing.

“Which I would forgo in favor of actual dinner to make up for changing your stupid ringtone to _copulation mode_ ,” he says, trying his best not to laugh again. “So anyway, as I was saying, candles, tablecloth, fancy clothes, me holding the door for you, the whole ride. What do you say, wench?”

Brienne tilts her head to the side. He tries to sell this as though she just won a prize at a game show.

“So this is supposed to mean that you think it’d be _rewarding_ for me to have dinner with you, despite the fact that I would rather not have anything to do with you at least for a while after that whole mess you caused,” she replies, having absolutely none of his nonsense.

“I cannot repeat often enough just how much of a great company I am, and I still cannot believe that you deny it despite the fact that you were rewarded with it for how long now? So this would be rewarding _most definitely_ , I believe.”

“Arrogance is part of the Lannister DNA, as we all know,” she snorts with a faux smile.

“As the Dothraki say: It is known.” Jaime nods. “So? Dinner?”

“No?”

“Oh, come on!” he cries out, throwing his head back.

“I won't _come on_. I won’t have dinner with you only so that you can feel better about yourself after the mess you caused. Just accept that you fucked this up and give me some space at last, okay? I had enough trouble for a day,” Brienne argues, shaking her head.

“I accept that I fucked up – but I cannot accept that you stay mad at me. You know me, wench.”

“ _Yes_ , I know you, and I know that you will keep bothering me no matter what I say, no matter how much I beg you to stop. However, for once, you won’t get your will only just because you keep bugging and pleading.”

“I am not pleading, I am trying to be pleasing.”

“I hate you so much right now. Words cannot express it,” Brienne says, her expression completely blank, whereas Jaime goes on laughing joyfully.

“So what? Are you trying to teach me a valuable lesson?” he asks.

“ _No_ , I am just done with all of this. I want to go home, and you keep me from it!” Brienne pouts.

She needs a break from all that awkward tension tying her guts into a tight knot. She needs to get away from his smug smiles and comments. For the site of the prank. From all of this.

She just has to get away.

“Because you didn’t tell me how to earn your forgiveness yet. I can’t have you brooding at home all alone, watching cheap romantic comedies while tormenting your poor punchbag, which, by the way, I still find a very curious mixture.”

“What does it matter?” Brienne huffs.

That is a detail he only knows by mere chance, since he walked in on her as she was taking out a particular fit of frustration, following a business meeting where his twin sister called her out for slightly bowing when meeting some clients, which is a habit Brienne sometimes displays out of sheer nervousness. Normally, no one calls her out on it, but Cersei did, and that created a very tensed atmosphere for Brienne during that entire business meeting.

When she got home, she was so frustrated with herself for letting that get to her the way it did, and of course she felt equally bad for having gotten called out by Cersei in front of the clients. So she punched the living hell out of her punching bag as Patricia, who came to King’s Landing from Pennytree – because it sounds funny whne charaters’ names start with the same letters as their cities of birth – was about to admit her feelings for Walter from Winterfell.

That was when Jaime made his way inside, somehow having found her secret stash for the spare keys, claiming that he wanted to check on her after Cersei had to “play all bitchy, which is her _modus operandi_ ” in front of the clients. He also told her that Cersei, following that meeting, had the guys from _Sparrow Inc_. tell her that her business plan was inacceptable and requested another person to take over.

They eventually watched the movie together, rolling their eyes when Walter, in a badly executed montage of him driving at fast speed to get to Patricia, made it at just the last second to profess his love to her and Patricia was swept off her feet with all but one statement, making her collapse into his arms for a kiss, and a nookie that most certainly would have taken place right on the street if not for the roll credits appearing right at the moment they kissed deeply.

And as the names rolled past, Brienne felt at ease and no longer bothered about taking out her aggressions on the punching bag.

“I can’t allow for my friend to spend her weekend moping in her very own ways,” Jaime argues, pulling Brienne back to the present situation of him standing before her, right outside the office building.

“Did I ever tell you that you are exhausting? Simply exhausting?” Brienne sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Nah, normally you call me annoying, arrogant, smug, full of myself, good-looking…,” Jaime recounts, counting with his fingers, though Brienne cuts him off, “I don’t call you good-looking.”

“We both know that you think that I am good-looking, though. I mean, I _am_ , but there’s no way that went unnoticed by you,” Jaime chuckles. “No matter how dense you may be at times.”

“Oh, Seven Hells,” she growls.

_And we are back to this all over!_

Some things just never change.

 “If it isn’t a pet, a winner-ticket for our next match, or dinner, then what is it that you need to bring yourself to forget about quitting our friendship?” Jaime asks, now with a bit more sincerity again.

“If I say that we are still friends, will that make you shut up?” Brienne sighs.

Because she is tired of this war she will not win.

She is tired, exhausted, drained.

While Brienne normally never gives in, this is a losing fight, and she just wants it to come to an end at last.

“Not if you don’t mean it. I can’t afford to lose any more friends.”

“That is because you don't have any other but me,” Brienne points out to him.

“Well, _technically_ , I do have friends and acquaintances, but I will admit that none of them compare to you,” he says simply, way too simply to her liking because to Brienne, those things bear a lot more meaning than Jaime would probably ever be able to process. “So yes, I can’t afford to lose you as a friend.”

Brienne exhales wearily. “You won’t lose me as a friend. I am pissed at you, so, as my friend, you should let me pissed at you for a while after the stunt you pulled.”

“But I want to repay the debt,” he insists.

“There is no debt.”

“We both know there is.”

“There will be a debt if you keep bugging me for no other reason but to get your will _yet again_. The way you always do ever since I got to know you! I am not willing to give you that satisfaction after the humiliation you caused me. Needless to mention that you, _as my friend_ , should know that this means more to me than it does to most other people. Regardless of that fact, you went ahead with your oh so great prank, even if I bring myself to understand that you didn’t mean to let the bomb detonate while I was still in the building, you still wouldn’t have minded about having me freak out over people hearing my phone suddenly…,” she rambles, and he completes for her with a dirty grin, “Making fucking noises.”

“ _That_.”

“Go on, go on,” he says, rolling his hand at her to gesture at Brienne to keep going.

“What now?” She frowns.

“Let it all out, c’mon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You are undeniably and understandably angry. So… _be_ angry! Instead of that simmering just short before exploding and occasional shouting and squealing, which sounds very endearing, though, by the way, that you normally do. So… go on!” Jaime encourages her.

And that one thing she can say without a doubt, not in a lifetime did Brienne have someone encourage her to let out all of her anger.

Her Septa told her that it’s unladylike.

Guys told her that it made her look like a beast, as imposing and tall as she is by nature.

Not really good friends of hers told her that such behavior scared men off and that this is why she shouldn’t do it.

But here she stands, and Jaime still looks at her as though it was the most natural thing on earth to ask her to let out all of her emotions of frustration, normally neatly canned and bottled up in the pit of her stomach, the back of her head, the deepest corners of her heart.

“I don’t want to go on. I don’t want any of this,” she argues, shaking her head.

“Yes, you do, you are just holding it back because you don’t want to show any weakness,” Jaime insists, hitting, yet again, way too close to home.

Because no matter how often Jaime is plainly wrong about her, he sometimes hits the nail on the head with such precision that even Brienne is simply rendered speechless.

_We do know each other after all…_

“You think it’s a weakness not to yell at people still standing by the parking lot of our shared work place?” she points out to him anyway.

“Your weakness, my lady, is you are still so awfully up-tight no matter what I do, no matter my endless efforts,” he tells her.

Brienne can do nothing but laugh drily at this. “Oh, so your prank was meant to _therapize_ me or what?!”

“No, but you’d have no clue how much it takes someone to break through to you. It’s an almost impossible task once we are around… any other people but the few guys you learned to accept at the gym. At work, you constantly pretend that we barely know each other,” Jaime points out to her, and if Brienne is not mistaken, disappointment and a bit of hurt are hiding behind his spoken words.

“Oh, _please_. I told you often enough that I have no trouble stating that we are friends, but I don’t like to publicly display that because you are still the boss’s son and I don’t want people to claim that I only ever got my promotion because I am friends with you,” Brienne retorts anyway.

“Anyone who says that is full of shit, because you are the most hard-working person around the entire office. So why would you even care?”

“I don’t _personally_ care about what people think of me, but I have to think about it when it comes to my job,” Brienne points out to him.

“Let them talk – you don’t have to concern yourself with the opinion of the sheep, as my dear Father would say, which I assume is one of the few good life lessons he’s ever given us… that, and not to take candy from strangers unless you want to get abducted by some creep.”

“Well, that is always easy to say for someone who could walk through the bullpen naked and not have to think about being fired or degraded.”

Jaime rolls his eyes at her. “I was _not_ naked, I just didn’t wear a shirt, and in my defense, it was Samwell Tarly who had to pour his entire mug of coffee over my shirt as he stumbled into me when we were meant to have that big council meeting about a collaboration with _Stark Industries_. And as I was changing out of my clothes and cleaning up, I hear that you had some accident in the office. So I just ran, _of course_.”

“I was _not_ in an accident, Seven Hells. _Pod_ was, because he was yet again so nervous that he didn’t want to wait for the technician to fix the copying machine, so he stuck his hand in some part where hands are apparently not supposed to go – and I tried my best to pull him out,” Brienne insists, the situation still vivid in her memory, and the embarrassment it came with, which made her ever the more resolute to keep it very low around the office that she is friends with Jaime.

“And as _you_ should be able to recall, that was not communicated to me. The only thing I was told was that something happened to you and Pod in the file room.”

“That still didn’t mean you had to hurry through the bullpen without a shirt.”

“The ladies were hardly complaining about that view – and who could blame them, huh?” Jaime argues with a grin.

“And it is _that_ exact attitude that assures me that I do better keeping job and personal life apart the best I can. Everyone is still talking about you rushing down the hallway to me, shirtless,” Brienne insists.

“They are just jealous.”

“Oh Seven Hells,” Brienne exclaims.

“The point is: That’s what you do for people you care about,” Jaime argues.

“Running around topless?” she asks with a blank expression, which makes him chuckle only the more, “If I must? And trust me, I don't do that for just anyone.”

“I feel _so_ honored.”

“As you should.”

“Jaime, just when will you finally understand that this is _not_ okay at the working place?” Brienne asks.

As it appears, they are tackling the essential aspects of their relationship now anyway, so she might just as well use the opportunity to rule out some misunderstandings, right?

“When will _you_ finally understand that if you owned up to your game and finally showed all those little shits the middle finger, you wouldn’t have any of those troubles keeping your muscles as tight as a bowstring?” he retorts.

“Well, _my friend_ , playing pranks on me in public is not exactly helping me loosen up. I guess that is something even _you_ should be able to understand. You’ll have to come up with something better to achieve that,” Brienne huffs.

It takes her about five seconds to realize what happens next.

And once she does realize that Jaime approached her, cupped her chin with his left hand and pulled her towards him for a kiss, _a deep kiss_ , her mind stops operating altogether.

Her thoughts fly away, her body reacts to his movements completely out of instinct.

Brienne can’t even tell how comes that she takes a hold of his shoulders, opens her mouth to grant him access, feels a strange sort of heat no longer tying her guts into knots, but undoing those knots to leave a comfortable warmth spreading throughout her entire body.

Certainly, there is the causal chain of events one can stick to most of the time: Every action has a reaction. However, Brienne can’t believe her own reaction to Jaime’s action of claiming her lips, out of the blue.

Out of all options feasible to her, that is the one Brienne would have deemed impossible from the very beginning.

Yet, here she stands, feeling his hand on her lower back, feeling his lips brushing against hers, pulling her closer and closer and closer.

Once they break away, chests heaving, lips singing, Brienne takes three steps back, eyes wide, her jaw clenching and unclenching as her mind starts to click back into place, this place, the parking lot in front of the office, where anyone can see them.

See them kissing.

“W, w, what was that?” she stammers breathlessly.

“A kiss,” he replies simply, a small smile spreading across his bruised lips.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“You asked.”

“I meant to ask what the Seven Hells you think you are doing – kissing me?!” Brienne rambles, gesturing wildly.

Because she needs an explanation for this, right now. A logical explanation as to how it's possible that her entire life plan of keeping private and job separate came to collapse despite all her careful planning with the sound of one naughty ringtone, a prank gone wrong, and Jaime Lannister’s lips on hers in the most tantalizing, thrilling ways that she can recall.

_Damn all this!_

“Well, you said I had to come up with something better to loosen you up,” Jaime says with a grin, the kind of grin she truly wants to punch out of his handsome, way too handsome face.

“So you just kiss me?” she asks, shaking her head.

_Where is the logic in **that**?! _

“Apparently. And I am fairly certain that it didn’t miss its effect. I could feel you loosen up _a whole lot_ in my arms. I should have come up with that sooner!” Jaime says, as though he was parading himself now, clapping his hands together.

 _Unbelievable_.

“Wow, that’s even below you,” Brienne snorts, shaking her head. Jaime looks at her in utter confusion. “What now? I thought my performance was quite good, _extraordinary_ even. Though you weren’t the almost bad yourself. I didn’t know you had such a flexible tongue.”

Brienne just ignores the lewdness in his tone, or the apparent fact that she would be bound to agree to most of that statement if she weren’t so incredibly mad at him right now.

“First you play a prank on me by making my phone a _porn phone_ , and now, after I brought myself to believe that you were earnest in that you didn’t mean to make a fool of me – you now put up an act yet again with kissing me?!” she asks, hurt now taking the place of that comfortable warmth seeping through her while his lips were still pressed to hers.

Because that thought just erupting her mind shakes her world even more than any of this did until now.

_He wouldn’t do that, would he? **Would** he?_

“That was no part of my April Fools plan by any means.”

Brienne shakes her head.

_This is **most definitely** enough now. _

“And we all know you are great at improv,” she snaps. “Yeah, you surpassed yourself today, Jaime, congratulations. You made a total fool of me – twice.”

“I wasn’t joking,” he argues.

“I may be easy-believing at times, but I am not stupid, Jaime. So just cut it out. And now I am really going home. I am fed up with this. With all of this,” Brienne says, waving her hand in a circle.

She has to leave now, or this will never end.

Brienne turns to leave, only to feel him holding on to her wrist once more. “No, no, no. You are not taking off like that.”

She starts to wriggle her arm to break free. “I swear by the Seven above, Jaime, I will flip you over if you don’t cut it right now.”

“I am not cutting it until you got the message,” he tells her, using his free hand to gesture at himself. “So pretty eyes on me now, hm?”

Brienne growls, moving her arm in the faint hope to break out of his grasp, but to no avail.

_Apparently, he **is** strong enough, as he prides himself with **way** too often. _

“Alright, and you keep those big blue eyes on me so that we don’t slip into yet another round of ‘ _Ms. Tarth doesn’t get it when she gets truth smudged in her face_ :’ It was no joke.”

“Then what was it to you if not a joke?” Brienne asks, letting her shoulders fall.

“ _Carpe diem_?” he says, more as a question than a statement, and she can’t have that right now. If he wants to make a passable attempt to bring her to believe that he was devoted to that kiss beyond the level of playing the greatest prank ever, Jaime shouldn’t make halfway statements, nullifying themselves by making them sound like questions begging for answers from the person they should offer reassurance to.

“Jaime!”

“Okay, bad word choice, but that is… basically it. I thought that this would be a good moment, so I used the opportunity,” Jaime explains. “Took a risk, you know, the things people do who are not as hesitant and stiff as you are.”

“Opportunity,” Brienne repeats.

Kissing her – an opportunity?

_Now, if **that** doesn’t sound like one big, fat lie. _

Because Brienne of Tarth learned that one thing over time: Most guys will not see it as an _opportunity_ to hook up with an ugly woman like her. They may enjoy her company, they may like that they can talk to her about all the “man topics” without boring her, they may even enjoy the intimate times, if they can look past her looks or are smart enough to keep the lights out once they get down to it, but they don’t seek out opportunities to win her.

Brienne is no Sansa Stark, no Margaery Tyrell, women men are swooning and fighting over for a date. She knows that, and she is fine with that. Brienne had those scales lifted off of her eyes as a young girl, and while it came with many tears, it eventually taught her that valuable lesson not to expect guys to sweep her off her feet because they are so enchanted by her charm or looks.

_Because that’s simply not happening._

And it’s happening even less with Jaime Lannister of all people, she is sure of that.

“Will you just believe me when I say that I didn’t plan this and that I didn’t make this part of my epic scheme of making your phone scream in ecstasy?”

“Even if so – that doesn’t make it any better that you kissed me now… for _no_ reason! Or was that this pathetic attempt of yours to stand true to your word that I need to loosen up – believing that Jaime Lannister kissing me would achieve that impossible task? Just how much of an arrogant asshole can you be?”

“You keep putting words into my mouth!”

“Well, you put your tongue in my mouth, so I guess you don’t get to complain.”

“For all I could _feel_ , you didn’t have any reason to complain about my tongue in your mouth until your brain started working again and screwed it all up.”

“Now what?” she huffs.

“You overthink things way too much, my lady, that is a plain as day fact. And that is what keeps you from loosening up. Seven Hells! Half of the staff at the office is fucking, on and under the tables when no one is looking… or while people are watching on because it seems to be their kink… And you are the one who is afraid of anyone finding out that we are, _gasp_ , friends.”

“What’s it to you?” Brienne asks, making a face.

Isn’t it Jaime Lannister who gives that one speech _ad nauseam_? That you shouldn’t concern yourself with the opinion of the sheep? Just because everyone else does it, therefore, doesn’t mean Brienne has to do it the same way others do it.

“You act as though it was a disease if people were to know that you and I have a significant relationship, or that, the Seven may beware, Brienne of Tarth can be funny and laughing and smiling without hiding her mouth behind her hands, when she finally takes out that stick up her well-toned ass.”

Brienne waits for Jaime to nullify his statement. Because that is where he normally always pedals back, two steps at a time.

_But no such luck._

The sentence remains lingering in the air, no breeze, no gust passing by to sweep the words away to make them mean nothing, leaving them with no chance but to mean something.

“I don’t mean to pretend that we are not friends. I jut don’t want to call attention to it at work. Because of…,” Brienne means to say, but Jaime cuts her off, “Because of your promotion. Because you don’t want people to whisper about you. Because you don’t want them to believe that you earned that job all by yourself. Brienne, we have had that discussion a million times, and I don't know how often I have to tell you that this is utter bullshit.”

“It isn’t to me! I don't know how often _I_ have to tell you that I have to earn my position. You have privileges I don’t, because you are the son of Tywin Lannister,” Brienne points out to him.

He can’t believe that their situations are perfectly parallel. No one would ever talk about Jaime the way they dare to talk about her. And even if they do, they try harder to hide it, because sure, Jaime still gets the whispers, if for different reasons.

“But you do realize that you got the promotion now and that there is no longer any actual reason to fear that people will whisper about it being thanks to me?” Jaime argues, gesturing with his left hand.

“The people will whisper now anyway, thanks to that prank of yours!”

“I mean, the thing I really don't get is that we could fight in the office the whole time of our collaboration at first. We threw things at each other, we yelled so loud that people jumped up from their seats, and you didn’t seem to bother to care about what people were thinking about you back then. I liked that about you! So what changed about that?” Jaime questions.

“Nothing,” Brienne replies simply.

“ _Of course_ something changed, or else you would still go after me in the office the way you used to, instead of insisting that we meet up outside, that I don’t get to hold the door for you when we get into the office, and would likely tell anyone who were to ask that we apparently don't come to the office together, which we do,” Jaime retorts, and Brienne is now certain that he is very sincere about this.

No fast smiles to make the severity fade away.

He is honestly disappointed about that.

_Yes, this day is pure madness, no way around it._

“I would never lie about those matters,” she insists.

“Just like you don’t necessarily wear them as a badge of honor.”

“Why would I? I was glad that we could relocate our worst… going after each other’s throats… to the private, as we became friends. I mean, it’s not think we argue any less. Look at us now! Arguing is our _modus operandi_. I don’t see what anyone else has a right to know about concerning what we do in private.”

Brienne enjoyed just that – having someone to be private with, someone to go the gym with, someone who’d watch that awful movies and comment over the same scenes. She loved that it was private, protected, shielded from the omnipresent glances of the co-workers, observing every of their steps.

Jaime is getting the whispers for the Kingslayer affair, and nothing much has changed about that. And Brienne has people talking behind her back whenever she shows her private self.

So to leave that private self to the private seemed like the only choice for Brienne to ever be herself. And she thought that Jaime shared that notion.

_Well, until now, at least._

Jaime looks at her for a long moment, studying her features. “ _Wait_ , so you don’t want to have that at the office to… protect what we have in private, is that what you are saying?”

“… In a way, yeah,” Brienne says, tilting her head.

Maybe that is something they should have discussed at some point, instead of making jokes about Patricia’s costumes in _The Lion and the Rose – An Old Story Told Anew_ , which were not at all a good choice for cold weather as is daily business at Winterfell, fictional or not.

“Why didn’t you ever say so?” Jaime questions. “Like… that makes a bit more sense than your sick pretending that we don’t even know one another.”

“You never asked?”

“I guess it’s not just arguing that’s our _modus operandi_. It’s also miscommunication.”

“… Might be,” she agrees with a grimace. Jaime lets out a sigh, raking his fingers through his hair, seemingly contemplating the information that just came to light unexpectedly, out of the blue, thanks to a moaning telephone.

“Well, look at it like this,” he says after a long moment. “You have your promotion now. That means the hurdle of you having to fear that people will say that you only got it thanks to my influence is taken, right?”

“I suppose.” She shrugs, so Jaime goes on to add, “Similarly, we could dodge the bullet of you getting fired thanks to that prank gone wrong, and I somehow managed to convince myself to take a chance.”

“Take a chance,” she repeats.

Opportunity. Take a chance. That sounds like a narrative not at all relating to herself, if anyone were to ask Brienne.

“Well, you are hard to get, girl,” he says with a grin.

“I am what?” Brienne blinks.

“Considering how often you almost hit me, actually hit me, punched and kicked me, the effort I made to come to your rescue in only just pants and shoes, the many lunch breaks we spent together to escape death by food poisoning, the fact that I already slept over at your apartment and you over at mine, and now adding to the list that we kissed and you wanted to kill me for it for at least a minute… yeah, you are hard to get.”

Brienne snorts at that, though this time in amusement more than anything else, “I take no responsibility for you walking around shirtless. I am still fairly convinced you took some sick pleasure in that.”

“I bet you took some pleasure when you grabbed my chest to get up,” he teases.

“You pulled me up before I could protest!” Brienne insists, noting that the smile won’t leave her lips.

True, she can’t get rid of him, because it is during moments such as these that she finds herself smiling when with any other person, she would not.

“As if you would have protested. You even held on a bit longer than necessary,” Jaime argues, wriggling an eyebrow at her suggestively.

“I was in shock,” Brienne snorts. “And in any case, if you now want to try to tell me that you have been trying to hit on me all this time, I won’t believe that lie, especially not on April 1st.”

“Yeah, no, that would be a flat-out lie, but I wouldn’t have minded if you had given any indication prior to that,” he argues.

“So generous of you,” she huffs, shaking her head.

“I know.”

Brienne points her index finger at him. “I still hate you, though. For the record.”

“You can’t possibly hate me. You love me.”

“You go on believing that.”

“What? Aren’t we officially together now, or something? Now that we kissed?” he laughs, his chuckle apparently even lighter than they used to be.

As it appears, Brienne wasn’t the only one carrying something around with her for a longer time now, stuck somewhere between the private and the professional.

“Not by any means.”

“I mean, think about it like this, we already did the whole dating stuff, basically,” Jaime argues. “We could skip that and just seal that part of the deal, profiting from the hard work we already got through. We already got over our first fights, even!”

“No, we didn’t date. You kissed me. _That_ is all.”

“You kissed back,” he chimes.

“That still doesn’t make us a couple.”

“It damn well could, if you gave it a try.”

“Not happening.”

“You say so now because you haven’t had the pleasure of going on an actual date with me. Speaking of which, maybe we should do just that. To celebrate your promotion. You have the evening off anyway, thanks to all computers catching the STD. How about dinner, actual dinner, hm?” Jaime says, gesturing at the car.

“How about not?” Brienne returns, starting to walk, Jaime only just a step behind her.

“C’mon, free, fancy food, Brienne. Coupled with my oh so interesting company and that,” he gestures down at himself, “to look at the whole evening. You can’t say no to that!”

“I can. I am. Right now.”

“You can also touch…,” he means to say, but Brienne cuts him off before he can shoot that surely lewd comment at her, “I will pass.”

“You didn’t pass when we kissed.”

“You caught me off-guard.”

“For that you were still responsive. _Very_ responsive. I am still all kinds of surprised just how much of a good kisser you are. I already feared we’d just clack teeth together to earn ourselves a trip to the dentist.”

“What a wonderful idea for a first date,” Brienne lets out a faux, dreamy sigh.

“So you are thinking about dating now after all. How sweet.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“I won’t go on a date with you,” Brienne insists, though she is no longer seeing it as part of a battle in a war she cannot win. “Just because we kissed – _once_ , doesn’t mean we are now officially dating.”

“Are you already setting the boundaries and rules?! How boring!” he exclaims, rolling his eyes at her. “I thought I told you a valuable lesson about loosening up!”

“You did not. If at all, you taught me very well to be specifically careful about you, because you are unpredictable,” Brienne points out to him, wriggling her index finger at him.

“That's hardly news,” Jaime snorts.

“True.”

“But yeah, you have to give this budding relationship room to grow, Brienne. It's such a tender, small flower. You can’t just stomp on it.”

“That oh so tender flower should instantly get a proper cut. Just like it’d require instant removal of any weed or other things that may disturb its growth,” Brienne argues. “To stick to the metaphor here.”

“You take the fun out of things,” he grunts.

“Now that’s hardly news, too.”

“True again.”

They reach Brienne’s car. Jaime takes her briefcase, the way he always does, while she goes ahead to dig into her blazer jacket to fish out the car keys.

And perhaps that is the strangest thing right at this moment, that this new situation bears so much semblance to what they already had all along.

“So yeah, you have a simple choice now,” Brienne tells him as she takes out the keys. “You either behave yourself and get into the car so that I can take you home, or you keep behaving like a naughty brat and will have to walk or call a cab. Your choice.”

“Mixing up the two is no third option?” he bargains.

“Nope.” She shakes her head.

“What does behaving myself entail?” he asks as she unlocks the door.

“Am I supposed to draw a diagram or work out a rule catalog for you?” she snorts, taking the briefcase back from him.

“I think that’s what I am getting myself into with you anyway.”

“No one asks you to stay,” Brienne says, with more hesitance than she would have firstly anticipated.

Because… just because she can’t get rid of him doesn’t mean that it’s the same for him.

_Right?_

“You know I wouldn’t ever run away, wench. I can’t, even if I wanted to. Even the troubles of having my life scheduled and planned by the ever so prudish Brienne of Tarth, aching for Jaime Lannister to loosen her up all the way can’t make me quit you.”

“You go on believing that this is what I am aching for.”

“So, what do the rules say about kissing and touching each other?” Jaime asks with a shit-eating grin so very much like him.

“That this is not taking place any time soon?”

“ _Seriously_? I get cock-blocked after I made a bold first move?”

“That is what you get for playing a nasty prank on me, and going on to believe that this will not have any consequence.”

“Cause and effect. Action and reaction… you are way too fond of these.” He shakes his head dismissively.

“Well, they make the structures rather clear, wouldn’t you agree? Cause – you play a prank. Effect – you get punished for it in equal measure.”

“Cock-blocking is no punishment of equal measure,” Jaime insists.

“We are not intimate, so I am not even doing… what you say,” Brienne argues, fighting a blush.

“My cock would disagree with that. After such a hot kiss,” he replies. “Needless to mention that you make me crazy by being unable to say those oh so naughty words.”

“Which may bring us to some of the rules…”

“You _are_ serious about this,” Jaime exclaims, throwing his head back.

“Cause – you said it first. Effect – I follow through with it,” Brienne says with a grin.

“You shouldn’t be too sure about you getting to follow through with that plan. I am still fairly sure that I can convince you of the opposite, with more or less ease.”

Brienne lets out a small squeal as she finds herself pushed against the hood of the car, the fingers of Jaime’s left hand digging into the small dip of her waist, whereas his right starts to roam up and down the side of her body.

“Action.”

She shudders against his touch, breath hitching.

“Reaction,” he laughs, his eyes dark with something she is not yet sure of just what it is, though if Brienne were to guess, and if she were to forget for a moment that it’s her that gaze is directed at, she’d say it’s desire. “See, you are not the only one who can pull off those causal chains. I am perhaps the only one who can make sense of you in that way.”

“You still fail quite miserable at making sense of me,” Brienne argues breathlessly, trying her best not to let her defenses fall now, or else she’d never see the end of it.

“I know you better than most. And as for the rest…,” he hums, letting his finger travel up and down the side of her body another time. “I think I won’t have any trouble finding out, once you let me do my research.”

He gives her hip a gentle squeeze, eliciting a small moan from her, accompanied by a darkening shade of red spreading across her freckled cheeks.

“Thoroughly.”

Brienne puts her hand on his sternum, and Jaime seems quite sure that she lifts herself to him for a kiss, but Brienne uses the momentum to give him a gentle shove backwards to maneuver out of his grasp.

_To his great disappointment._

“As I said, we are nowhere close to where you probably think this is going,” Brienne tells him with a smirk, still trying to wrap her head around the simple yet curious circumstance that this is happening.

Thanks to a moaning phone, miscommunication, an almost war raging, and something coming to the surface stuck between private and professional for far too long, as it appears.

“ _Yet_ ,” he adds with a grin. “I will do my best to convince you once we are inside the car. Because then you can’t really escape me.”

 _There is no escaping him anyway_ , Brienne thinks to herself, though there is no longer any bitterness to that thought, she has to realize.

There is something rather hopeful indeed.

Because if you can’t seem to escape from the person who gives you the feeling that, despite all of your madnesses, you are wanted, needed, even… where is the trouble in that?

Why would you want to run from such a person in the first place?

_Though that doesn’t mean you can’t escape his little, exploring hands because he is clearly overstepping the boundaries at this point, for the record._

“So you would risk getting us into a car accident for that?” Brienne questions.

“We can always pull over,” Jaime suggests.

“And you don’t think you are trying to push your luck a bit too far?”

“You know that if I act on something, I follow through till the bitter end,” Jaime argues, tapping his fingers on the hood of the car.

“Oh, so this is going to be _bitter_ according to you?”

“If you don’t let me show you the sweet sides, it’s going to be _very_ bitter, yes,” he agrees. “On the contrary, you can have a lot of sweetness if you give me a chance to show you.”

Brienne cocks an eyebrow at him. “Is that how you pick up girls? Because that was rather awful. In fact, makes me wonder how women ever want to date you, besides for matters of your looks and name.”

Jaime makes a dismissive gesture with his left hand. “Nah, I long since know that with you, I have to take quite a different approach. So this is specifically reserved for you, my lady.”

“The awful bits for me? How generous,” she snorts.

“I don’t come to have a ten-point plan yet. I am taking a bit of a risk, a bit of a chance. And so should you.”

“ _Right_.”

“Now climb into the car before I fling you down on the hood to go down on you for all to see,” Jaime warns her, a bit more serious than maybe he should be, considering what he just suggested.

For someone who was merely her office friend some ten minutes ago, Jaime is acting very boldly ever since that kiss.

While Jaime Lannister is bold about pretty much anything, Brienne is well aware of that, it does come as a surprise just how fast his tone and topics seem to change.

And Brienne is not yet sure just why she finds something strangely enjoyable about that shift.

“You wouldn’t manage.”

“I did just now.”

“Because I didn’t fight back.”

“Because you want it, _deep down_.” He wriggles his eyebrows at her suggestively, to which Brienne opens the door of the car with a clank, going on to say, “I can still drive off without you.”

“I know where you live. And I know where you keep your spare key,” he argues.

“I changed the hideout.”

“I still know where it is. Accept it already, you are stuck with me.”

Brienne looks past him, over to the small garden area right behind the office complex, to make it look a little less like a concrete block. She sighs, “That sums up my life, doesn't it? Being stuck with _you_ of all people?”

“For that, I put up with you in turn,” Jaime laughs. “You could say it’s a deal beneficial to both sides.”

“Just get into the car already,” Brienne argues, rolling her eyes at him.

“Maybe you wanna open the button of your trousers, for better access,” he suggests.

He is taking those chances indeed.

And Brienne finds herself… well, simply enjoying being the person such attention is directed at. Because this still seems surreal, a piece of fiction cut from their rom coms with bad plot and bad acting.

Maybe her Septa wasn’t completely right when she told Brienne that no guy would ever chase after her – because apparently, someone just did, _even if he is a pain in the ass most of the time._

 Maybe _you_ wanna keep your hands to yourself, so that you can keep using them in the near future,” Brienne warns him, tossing her bag on the backseat of the car.

“It's a relief to know that we are back to our usual selves, all about fight and more fight. I already started to miss that,” Jaime chuckles, at last moving to the other side of the car.

Because no matter what, Brienne doesn’t fancy having people see her in that particular situation. She’d rather cherish that in private instead of letting others tear and pull on something that may fit her well enough, after she found nothing and no one fitting to her, fitting into her life.

_Until now._

“Will you finally get into the car?” Brienne grounds out.

“If you ask me nicely?” he teases.

“Why would I?”

“Because then your _boyfriend_ can treat you _really_ nicely as well?”

“You are _not_ my boyfriend.”

“I will be soon. Let’s be real, who would ever be enough for you if not me? There is no one like me, only me. So you should take a hold of that collector’s piece that could be in your hands by now. Literally.”

“That is disgusting.” She shakes her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

Jaime leans on the car top, resting his chin on his muscular arms. “You won’t say so once you have tried it yourself. Then you will do just what your ringtone did.”

“I should make you walk, for that statement alone.”

“You won’t. You want to know what I can do in a limited space with only just my hands,” he chimes, tilting his head to the side, looking all innocent, when in fact his grin couldn’t be any dirtier.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Brienne shakes her head as she climbs into the car, fending off his hands the moment on she sits down. And Gods know how he managed to get in and buckle up as fast as he did.

Yeah no, she isn’t going to get rid of him. Ever again.

Though truth be told, Brienne finds herself no longer minding at all.

_So long he keeps his hands to himself so long I am driving._

As they pull out of the curb, Bronn and Tyrion exchange a glance as they look out the window, having observed that TV-show worthy scene.

“Took them long enough,” Tyrion huffs, shaking his head. “I mean, all knew the moment on that woman set a foot in the office and started to fight with him that the unresolved sexual tension was strong with those two, but… Seven Hells, this took forever and ever. I was that close to playing couple therapist yet again. And I can’t say that this is something I would have fancied.”

“You know, that means I win the bet,” Bronn points out to him with a grin. “500 stags.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will pay you on Monday.”

“And you thought they’d do it on the copying machines in three months. As if that woman would have allowed for it before the big admission of feels. Rookie’s mistake.”

“Well, they will probably do that little time from now. Often,” Tyrion argues.

“Most likely, yeah,” Bronn agrees, tilting his head.

“I am still indecisive if I want to rub it under my big brother’s nose that I saved his ass or not,” Tyrion says with a grimace, wrinkling his nose.

“I saved him as well,” Bronn argues. “And that even though I don’t get paid for that shit.”

“We _both_ did, let’s agree on that. I mean, all you had to do was get the computer and send a mail that everyone was getting a file about payment raises, so you can’t say that you deserve all the credit. It was my fast, sharp mastermind that spread the ringtone like wildfire,” Tyrion replies.

“And the Gods know something rose once they opened that mail.”

“To full length.”

“And girth.”

“Well, I would say this was a very productive day, all in all,” Tyrion says, clapping on his thighs.

“You just managed to fix your brother a bang that should have happened months ago, which hopefully prevented him from coming undone in his pants whenever he sees her swing by his office. Because I don’t want to see that, really. So how were we productive again?” Bronn questions.

“I pissed off Father.”

“Yeah, that’s always a plus.”

“And everyone was sent home early.”

“Which means?” Bronn frowns.

“Which means…,” Tyrion begins, reaching into his pocket to take out his flask. “We get to start our Friday celebration early, my friend.”

“I like the way you think, most of the time,” Bronn laughs throatily, taking a swig from the flask. “You think we can get some dancers to come here?”

“See, and that is why I couldn’t possibly have any other personal assistant but you. You know exactly what I need and when I need it,” Tyrion sighs with a grin.

“Now don't go all romantic on me. You are too short and not pretty enough.”

“Aw. You hurt my feelings.”

“Which one?”

Tyrion rolls his eyes, looking back outside. “In any case, yeah, call those dancers! We are having a party!”

Bronn shakes his head. “That whole office is mad, but _that_ kind of madness? I can well live with. 500 stags for guessing when Pretty Boy’s finally going to go for a nookie with the Warrior Woman of his Desire, and a dance party at the office.”

“And we get to tease the two following Monday,” Tyrion adds with a dark grin.

“Right,” Bronn agrees, nodding his head.

“A gift that keeps on giving.”

“Cheers to April Fools,” Bronn says, taking a swig from the flask to pass it back to Tyrion, who takes a sip as well, “Cheers to April Fools, and those April fools, finally getting it together that they can’t bear without one another. Long shall they bang.”

“I am calling the dancers now,” the assistant says, fishing out his phone.

“Ask for Chataya. That girl is so very flexible.”

“Mhm, and she’s crazy. She’s from Dorne, so that stands to reason anyway. They’re all crazy in Dorne. Fookin’ and killin’, killin’ and fookin’. There ain’t an in-between. I’ll ask for as many as I can get, though. I mean, you pay, right?” Bronn hums, going through the list of phone numbers.

“Maybe we can set it off against tax liabilities, who knows?”

“We should look into that.”

“Cheers,” Tyrion agrees, wriggling the metal bottle at Bronn before taking a gulp. He hands the flask over to his assistant, who takes another sip. “Cheers. Oh, and by the way?”

“Hm?”

“I will keep that ringtone.”

“I might, too. If only to see my brother squirm,” Tyrion chimes with spiteful glee, wriggling his legs, which are dangling over the edge of the windowsill.

“Or get smacked.”

“I _love_ it when she smacks him.”

“All is fair in love and war,” Bronn points out, nodding his head.

“Hear ye, hear ye!”

“To love and war.”

“To war and love.”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”


	2. Epilog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the epilog to this tale of madness, looking at how things are now, some time after that eventful day, revolving around April Fools and moaning telephones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll enjoy that epilog. As I said, I thought it'd be a nice thing to look a bit into the future. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me throughout the madness. 
> 
> Much love! ♥♥♥

**One Year Later**

Brienne stretches out her legs on the couch, switching the TV program to the news.

They are meeting an important client today, Daenerys Targaryen finally managed to set up a date for a business meeting, which took forever because she was caught up in Meereen _forever_.

Though everything should go smoothly, _hopefully_. Jaime and she worked extra-hard to piece together a waterproof – or in case of the Targaryen clan _fireproof_ – plan that will most likely not disappoint her.

Brienne turns up the volume as she puts her feet against the side of the table, slouching further against the leather of the couch.

_You can say about Jaime’s taste in furniture what you want, but he does have one of the most comfortable couches I have ever sat on. Or lied on, for that matter._

She watches as Varys reads out the latest celebrity gossip for his part of the news called _The Whispers_ , lifting the mug of freshly brewed coffee to her lips, relishing the taste on her tongue.

There is nothing like starting an early morning with the news, coffee, and enjoying the silence of the apartment.

Varys is just about to announce the latest celebrity couple break-ups when Brienne sees a hand, then an arm before her face, reaching down to take her mug away.

“Hey!” she pouts, glancing up to Jaime standing behind her, one hand on the back of the couch, whereas the other is now lifting her coffee to his lips. “There’s enough coffee in the can to have one yourself.”

“I rather have yours,” he argues, taking another sip for emphasis.

“Why would you?” She frowns.

Jaime shrugs. “Tastes of you.”

“My spit, you mean?”

He rolls his eyes. “You still tend to take any romance out of those statements.”

“That is because you keep trying to find something romantic in stealing people’s hot beverages,” Brienne snorts.

As likely could be expected, or so Brienne reckons now, any attempt to rid herself of Jaime Lannister proved to be futile.

There is no way of escaping him.

And as thing stand now, she doesn’t bother anymore either, didn’t in a long time, actually.

While Brienne remains strict about keeping work and private apart, smacking his more than curious, _more_ than teasing hands away whenever he is pushing his luck when they work together on a project and he allows his fingers to wander up her leg, or any other spot he finds available for that matter.

Though Brienne is aware by now that people were actually expecting them to hook up at some point. She even heard rumors that people had bets going on.

Tyrion and Bronn are making any effort to give Jaime hell for it ever since, though Brienne is glad that they mostly keep her out o it. That means she can just chuckle softly as Jaime has to dodge the bullets about their sex life.

“Will I get my coffee back any time soon?” Brienne sighs, holding out her hand to him, but Jaime seemingly has another idea, moving around the couch to put the mug down on the coffee table, out of her reach, damn him.

“You block my vision,” she says, tapping against his thigh to signal at him to move.

“There’s better to look at than Varys bitching about celebrity pregnancies,” Jaime argues.

“By which you mean yourself.”

“Have you looked at that?” he asks, gesturing down his naked torso, followed by loose sweatpants and bare feet. “No one believes me when I say that I just wake up like this.”

“Yeah, your bed-hair is a miracle, darling,” she sighs, rolling her eyes.

It took Brienne more than a while to ease into those newly unfolding routines. While bantering was also one of their _modes operandi_ , the tone and content changed quite drastically ever since they took even the hurdles of dating, despite Jaime’s lamentation that they could skip all that.

But not so with Brienne of Tarth.

However, now, those banters, however dirty they may turn every once in a while, are no longer something that scares her, but actually make her feel confident about herself, once she let it sink in that this is true, that this is real.

No matter how unreal the revelation was, mingled with moaning phones and computers, and a very odd ride back home.

“And I must scold you anyway,” he tells her, purposely leaning in a little closer.

“For what now?” she asks, making a face.

“You got up without me. I woke up to an empty bed. Imagine my shock.”

“I know that you don’t like to get up early. So I didn’t want to wake you up,” Brienne argues, shaking her head.

“That still gives you no right to just leave the bed,” he replies, stepping between her legs, putting one hand on either side of her head to loom above her with a dirty grin she is used to by now, and learned to accept actually relates to her, is only meant for her. “That took any chance away from me to give you _proper_ morning kiss, likely more than that. You know how _gentle_ I can be.”

“I had to get up. And just because you think we didn’t have enough after last night doesn’t mean I have to comply,” Brienne points out to him.

Because Jaime, so she learned, is a hungry man. And what still tends to surprise her no matter how often Brienne recounts it to herself inside her head, and no matter how often he says it between breathy kisses and fumbling for the buttons on her shirt or the hooks on her bra, is just how much he needs her.

Brienne didn’t know until she had it how rewarding it can be to have someone need you, and not just to need someone else.

Because, as it appears, being stuck with someone comes with the simple if powerful comfort that you are no longer alone, no matter how long you roamed the earth living your private life only just by yourself, allowing no one inside.

_Even if it’s the same guy who thinks that his dick jokes are funny, that he is a gift to humankind and states so on any occasion, and always leaves the toilet lid up._

“There is _never_ enough of that. Though I will admit that I couldn’t stand for an hour following that _dance_ ,” he chuckles, running his fingers up her bare leg. “I bet your legs are still jelly.”

“My legs are fine,” she huffs, only to let out a small hiss as she feels his hand roaming up the skin of her right calf, telling her, “Very fine, and sheer endless. I mean, we could also relocate the morning greeting to here now, too. I’d have little opposition.”

“We should get ready for work,” she argues in a sing-song.

“It's still early. I bet part of the reason why you get up early is so that I can give you a proper morning greeting.”

“You think wrong. You just take too long.”

“I never take too long. I take just the right amount of time.”

“It’s funny how you overpraise yourself.” Brienne shakes her head.

“I don’t overpraise myself. I praise myself for outstanding performances.”

“Oh, are they that outstanding?” she teases.

Because apparently, Jaime is one of the few people who enjoy her jesting, who are unafraid of her stating what she wants, whom she wants, and when.

Just like she never has to switch off the lights when they get to the bedroom so long she is around him.

_And since I am stuck with that arrogant, good-looking man, I won’t have to switch them off unless we both want to any time soon._

“Well, judging by the way you clutched onto me last night, screaming my name as though it was a prayer… _pretty_ outstanding, yeah.”

Brienne rolls her eyes at him.

“So? What do you think? I can make it quick if you insist. And you can’t tell me that you walk around my apartment in only just panties if not for easy access,” Jaime goes on to say, his fingers playing with the hem of the white shirt she threw on as she got out of bed. “Needless to mention that you know that you wearing my shirts drives me _mad_.”

“You are mad in general. With or without me wearing that shirt.”

“So are you,” he points out to her.

“True,” she is bound to agree.

They are both mad. So what?”

“I am in a relationship with you. What kind of madness is _that_?” she laughs, not bothering to hide it behind her hand.

“Don't remind me,” he snorts in amusement. “We share in that madness, as it appears. Madly in love.”

“Or just mad.”

And yet again, Brienne can’t say that she minds that sort of madness.

_The world is insane anyway – if you ever need any proof for that, just look at the office slash brothel slash gossip ring._

“Nah, I do get a vibe that there is _some_ love there,” he hums, moving in a little closer, allowing his free hand to venture in all those places that have Brienne’s breath hitch no matter how much she tries to control herself.

“There is a difference between love and love-making,” she argues. “In case that went without your notice.”

It’s their kind of game.

And Brienne learned over time that she enjoys those kinds of games after all.

Not that this means she lets him know at all times, of course.

_Jaime doesn’t have to know everything. Where would be the surprise in that? The thrill he always speaks of, right?_

“Love-making is a _huge_ part of expressing love. And we should definitely quit having those discussions about definitions. They are boring, and keep me off of the good things,” he says, dipping his head down to kiss her deeply, both their lips tasting of coffee.

_There is truly no better way to welcome a new day._

“By the way, we still have to talk about you finally moving in with me,” Jaime says nonchalantly as he pulls away, pressing a peck to the corner of her mouth. Brienne shakes her head. “I told you that I am keeping my apartment. Needless to mention that you suggested only just a second ago to stop pondering those definitions. What does it matter if we have two apartments?”

“I mean, it has the merit that there are a lot of more spaces to screw you, I will give you that, but I’d rather wake up to just that view every morning for the rest of my life,” Jaime tells her.

One of the greatest advantages that came for her ever since they moved things up a gear with regards to their relationship was and is that Brienne feels like she is finally starting to unlock some of those secrets Jaime tends to keep to himself.

She starts to get a feeling for when he nullifies statements because they truly mean nothing, and when he takes them back because they lead on to more dangerous, more meaningful territories.

Though she could still smack him more than often when he does it on purpose only just to make her mad.

_And the great disadvantage of being so close to him is that Jaime takes any opportunity for teasing, jesting, and bringing me to the point of madness. Overexposure much._

“Oh, so we are making _plans_ now, Mr. Lannister?”

“Only just for you, _Miss Tarth_.”

“So generous of you.”

He kisses down her jaw at that, making her giggle as his three-day beard rubs against her sensitive skin there. “Wanna shake it up now? I can be out of my pants and inside yours in about ten seconds.”

“So long?” she snorts with a grin.

“I an also make it under five if you have _such_ need.”

“Not really,” Brienne huffs.

“That’s a lie. You always need me, about as much as you want me,” Jaime laughs, giving her hip a playful squeeze.

“We have to get ready for work.”

“But I _really_ don’t wanna,” he sighs, leaning his head against her shoulder.

“You are going to nevertheless. Because we are meeting the Mother of Dragons today.”

“Did she finally catch a flight across the Narrow Sea? Did we check that she is actually on that plane? Imagine what a waste of time it’d be to come by the office, only to hear that she didn’t make it _yet again_.”

There was a brief talk about how they may want to give her a calendar as a welcoming gift, though eventually all decided against it, fearing the Mother of Dragon’s rage.

“We will only know once we are there,” she sighs, shrugging her shoulders.

“Or we skip it, and make the Dragon Lady wait for us. Psychological warfare.”

“We are not at war.”

“We are always at war. That’s part of the business. All one gigantic tank full of sharks,” he argues, turning his head to look at her.

“And lions, and wolves, and dragons, and stags…”

“But think about the possibilities,” he sighs, dragging one finger over the underside of her thigh.

“We are getting ready for work now,” she argues, trying her best not to show him how much she actually enjoys just that touch.

It’s a game – and Brienne wants to keep playing it, ever since she dared to take the risk of trying it out for the first time.

“I can be really fast. You know I can bring you to the point of frenzy at record speed if I give it enough effort,” Jaime keeps pushing, not just verbally, but also physically, leaning himself more against her – for emphasis.

“Just get ready for work,” she exhales, clapping the flat of her hand against his side. He leans his head into the nape of her neck, letting out a grunt. “My cock disagrees with that.”

“Gladly, I don't are about what your cock may think. Your cock’s very simplistic in his ideas,” Brienne huffs. “Basically, he’s a prick.”

“Yeah, it takes a wicked mind like mine to make that weapon work to full effect,” he laughs, moving closer.

_If that is even possible._

“That was awful,” she exhales, making a face.

“Yeah, not my best line, I will admit. But I blame it on you not allowing me to get my juices flowing in the morning.”

“Yeah, just blame it all on me,” Brienne snorts, tapping him on the side again. “Now off.”

“Maybe you will reconsider after I showered,” he suggests, not moving away from her by any means just yet.

He just loves teasing way too much to let go of any chance to do just that.

“But then you have to shower again, and then we’d run late, which we cannot afford. Or else the Miss Targaryen is going to throw a fit. Remember how things escalated in Vaes Dothrak? I don’t think we want that to happen around here as well.”

“Shower sex might be a good solution to save the time we’d need to bypass bringing upon ourselves the Wrath of the Dragon Lady,” Jaime argues.

“Off. Now.”

Jaime lets out a long sigh as he starts to straighten up – _very_ slowly.

“I will leave the door open, in case you wanna join. Because I know you want to, deep down, right here,” he says with a dark grin, daringly dragging the back of his hand down her naval, but Brienne stops him before he can get to where he likely would want to go. “Off.”

“I am not a dog.”

“You damn well act like one.”

“That’s my charm,” he exhales, removing his hand, finally getting up to stand before her for another long moment, if only just to keep blocking her from watching her show. “And joke’s on you, by the way. You fell for it.”

“And way too often I ask myself just how that ever happened!” Brienne shakes her head.

And really, she does.

_Many times. Particularly when he is full of himself, arrogant beyond a word’s description, and doesn’t realize when he is being over the line, which is the case… **very** often. _

Brienne never would have guessed, not even her wildest dreams, that she’d be in a relationship with a guy who changed her ringtone to two people having sex, for the entire office to hear. Just like she never would have guessed that it’d be Jaime of all people she would find herself comfortable with – because that man makes a sport of it to have squirming uncomfortably in her seat with his comments and glances.

“Same here, wench, same here.”

He starts to walk towards the bathroom.

“Last chance,” he calls over his shoulder.

“No.”

“You know that this means I will have to rub myself all on my own, thinking about you? How ineffective is that?!”

“Get going already,” Brienne grunts, rolling her eyes as she leans her head back. “I also need to get under the shower, and I don’t want to rush because you take forever.”

“Again, that’d be entirely your fault for not answering the needs of your boyfriend.”

“You can count yourself so lucky that I love you, or else I would break up with you right over that statement.”

“Aw, it’s cute when you say that you love me. I feel so flattered,” he laughs.

It took them both quite a while to actually so that seemingly small but apparently very big word. Though, seemingly true to how they act, it tumbled out into the world about as unexpectedly as came their first kiss on the sidewalk outside the office.

As always, they had a fight about something. Brienne can’t even remember just what exactly they fought over – _after you hit the one-million mark, you tend to lose count_.

“Bathroom. Now.”

“You are bossy.”

“Hardly any news.”

“If my lady commands, I have no choice,” he laughs. “I still leave the door open, just in case.”

“Do if you must. And just so that you know, you are repeating yourself.”

“Did you say lust?” he calls out from the bathroom.

“Must.”

“Mast?”

“Must.”

“Musk?”

“You are not being funny,” she says loudly, as she hears him lifting the toilet lid.

“What rhymes with funny that sounds naughty?” he calls out.

That is one of those things Brienne long since accepted she will only ever roll her eyes at.

“Get going.”

“Nah, that doesn’t rhyme well. You are not at all helpful, as always! Nutty, maybe? Bunny, cuddly, tummy, yummy… oh, honey! I like that one! Makes me think of our song!”

“We don’t have a song!”

Both agreed that this was way too conventional for them.

“ _She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair, But he licked the honey from her hair. Her hair! Her hair! He licked the honey from her hair_!”

“I told you what I would do with you the next time you dared bring up that stupid song!”

“It’s dirty and you like it that way.”

“Just why do I put up with you?” Brienne exhales.

“Because you are madly in love with me, and because I bring out all of your dark sides and desires.”

“Whatever.”

“You didn't deny it, which means that you agree with me!”

“It’s not like you’d believe me even if I said the opposite.”

“True again,” he agrees, only to go on singing. “ _Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air! My bear! She sang. My bear so fair! And off they went, from here to there, The bear, the bear, and the maiden…_ WHAT THE FUCK!”

Brienne grabs her coffee from the table with a small smile as she eases back down on the couch. She takes a sip, licking her lips once before she goes ahead to call out, “ _Honey_ , is everything alright?”

“What the fuck happened to the toilet?! Everything just splattered to… _Wait_! Is that… is that PLASTIC WRAP underneath the toilet seat?!”

Jaime tramples back out of the bathroom, some droplets on his trousers indicating that not everything went to where it was supposed to go.

“Brienne.”

She turns around on her seat to face him, offering an oh so sweet smile. “Oh yeah, almost forgot, my darling. It’s our anniversary today.”

Jaime looks at her quizzically. Brienne tilts her head to the side slowly. “April Fools, you fool.”

“You…” He gapes.

“I’d say we are even now,” Brienne says with a smile.

_And sometimes, you only win the war if you are patient enough to wait until just the right moment to strike back._

Love is a battlefield.

At least the kind of love they share.

“The last word is not spoken on the matter yet,” he warns her.

“Also, maybe that teaches you not to take a loo while standing,” Brienne chimes, starting to get a faint idea just why Jaime teases her like that whenever he achieved only the smallest of victories.

_It feels **surprisingly** good! _

“My apartment, my rules of how to use the bathroom. And I may add that you just destroyed a sanctuary.”

“Such a poor Kingslayer, having his resort of the loo infiltrated.”

“You know you will have to make up for this,” Jaime tells her, pointing his index finger at her.

Brienne cocks an eyebrow at him. “You want to change pants first. I think you got something there.”

“Just wait until our next anniversary. Oh, I’m going to get back at you so, so bad.”

“Now you have me scared,” she laughs.

“As you should be. This was a declaration of war, my love,” he declares.

“All is fair in love and war, my darling,” she chimes.

“And people believe that you are an honorable woman. What fools they are!” he says, shaking his head, feigning disbelief.

“Consider the debt paid, the one you owed me thanks to your prank last year,” Brienne suggests. “You said yourself that a Lannister always pays his debts, right?”

“That was _not_ the price we agreed on.”

“That’s the price I decided on.”

“’Without consulting me first. In business, that is a bad offense, as you might be able to recall.”

“But this is _private_.”

“You apply office rules to our private life the whole time, so don’t you dare complain when I do the same now. So, do you know what punishment there is for such an offense?”

“I don’t know, what was the punishment for you last time?”

“I am quite sure that it involved you and I, a package of condoms, and the bed,” Jaime tells her with a small yet _very_ dark grin.

One of the constants of their shared life is apparently that they will always return to those topics. And while it makes Brienne uncomfortable more often than she would like to admit, she can live with that so long she is within their little sphere of the private.

“So you consider that punishment? How insulting, and contrary to the idea of you praising yourself for your oh so great achievements in the horizontal position.”

“Not just horizontal, my darling. And in any case, I can make it punishing, by reducing you to a babbling mess in my arms.”

“You go on believing that.”

It's not like she has to let him know that he can do just that.

_That’d give away the game._

“Well, _thanks to you_ , I have to clean up that mess now. So, if we run late, _you_ will have to explain to the Dragon Lady how that is entirely your fault.”

“We are still early enough, even if you take ten minutes to clean up,” Brienne argues. “I planned well in advance, of course.”

“If I weren’t a gentleman, I would make you clean that up. Plastic wrap. Seven Hells! That is _so_ kindergarten,” Jaime grumbles.

“Tells me the guy who changed my ringtone to _copulation mode_ because he thought it was such a funny joke.”

“That _was_ funny and very well plotted, if not for Father interfering with my plans. This here? That is stuff we did back in middle school because we didn’t know any better.”

“Which means you fell for a prank on middle school level,” Brienne concludes. “I guess joke’s on you, then.”

“You better be ready to make up for some of it under the shower.”

“I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. Or else I can make no guarantees as to what I’m gonna do when we meet the Dragon Lady,” Jaime warns her.

“You wouldn’t,” Brienne argues with a grimace.

_He definitely would._

“I totally will. So you better swing your toned ass to the bathroom in five minutes,” Jaime calls out from the bathroom.

“Don’t you ever understand a joke, darling?”

“Ha, almost funny right there.”

“I am trying.”

And she is. Or rather, she is daring it.

“I mean, I guess you can’t help it. I spoiled you.”

“Yeah, it’s al your fault. Gladly, we finally agree on something.”

“You are still expected to be under the shower, naked,” he says in a sing-song.

Brienne stretches out her legs a bit. “I don’t like expectations. You don’t like them either. Or so you told me. They are so awfully limiting, right?”

“You take way too much spiteful glee in that, honey.”

“You said it, you screwed me up.”

Brienne is surprised when he suddenly stands behind her.

“And now I’m screwing you. But me no buts.”

“Maybe my legs are a little too weak still,” Brienne argues, cocking an eyebrow at him, a lazy smile spreading across her features, only to let out a squeal when he lifts her off the couch with way too little effort.

_He won’t ever stop priding himself with being strong enough, that much is for sure._

“For real now?” she asks.

“You asked for it. Take it as practice,” Jaime tells her, turning back and forth a bit.

_He loves to show off after all._

“For what?” Brienne asks, trying her best to keep her tone as casual as possible, because she can tell that heat keeps rising to her cheeks.

It’s those little things that take her breath away.

_And damn him for knowing them all._

“When we two get married, and cross the threshold as husband and wife,” Jaime tells her simply. Brienne’s eyes open wide at that, her mouth taking on the shape of an “O.”

Because yet again, he doesn’t back down again, doesn't nullify, doesn’t shy away with a smug smile and a lewd comment.

While many things stay the same, others keep changing, and they bring about surprising if welcoming new situations.

“We haven’t even moved in together,” she reminds him.

“Which is entirely your fault,” he argues, making the first steps in direction of the bathroom, though he takes his time.

_He always does._

“Maybe you didn’t create enough incentives for such an agreement, ever thought about that?” Brienne suggests, now starting a war against the complexion of her skin, which she knows is now a blotched mixture of red and pink.

To think that they are discussing things such as this now, when some time back, they couldn’t even say what they felt for each other without shying away by retreating to the private or the professional respectively.

“I will give you at least three good incentives by the time you’ll stumble out of the shower,” he suggests.

“Will you let me down now?” Brienne sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Nope,” Jaime declares, not surprisingly, as he proceeds to the bathroom.

“You are showing off.”

“That I am strong enough? I guess you should know that by now.”

_As I was saying._

“Which doesn’t prevent you from an unneeded presentation.”

“You love it when I do that,” he argues.

“No.”

“Yes,” he insists. “Accept it already, wench, you won’t ever rid yourself of me again.”

“It seems to be my fate.”

“Yup, I am your destiny.”

“That sounded worse than you thought it did.” Brienne shakes her head, and Jaime makes a grimace of agreement, only to suggest instead, “We are each other’s future?”

“Sounds better,” Brienne says. “I mean, not _much_ better, but… better.”

“Oh yeah, which reminds me,” Jaime goes on to say, readjusting his grip on her. “Happy anniversary to you, too. I knew that you wouldn’t make it home without pulling over on that decisive ride away from the office building.”

“That you always have to bring that up,” Brienne pouts. “Plus, that was entirely your fault.”

“Those are memories very important to me. Which is why we celebrate this day. Even if you screwed it up with plastic wrap,” Jaime laughs, pushing the door open with his back. “And I shall promise you to return the favor every other year still to come, because, as you know…”

“Don't say it.”

“A Lannister always pays his debts.”

Brienne rolls her eyes. He kisses her. She laughs against his lips.

If that is their new April Fools tradition, Brienne supposes she can live with that.

There is worse ways to spend that day, such as moaning phones and fearing to lose one’s job.

“We won’t make it on time, will we?” she exhales, already knowing the answer.

“We are just taking time for the truly important things,” Jaime replies.

“And what are those important things?”

“You and I.”

“Now, that sounded much better.”

“Happy April Fools.”

“Happy April Fools to you, too.”


End file.
